CHAPTER XIX

A LITTLE LOST GIRL

"What are you doing here? Who are you? How long have you been here? Is
Mrs. Black in there?"

These questions were fairly shot at the girls, who stood in rather
embarrassed silence on the porch. The sun was now breaking through the
clouds in warm splendor, and they took this for a good omen.

"Well, why don't you answer?" demanded the rather aggressive woman. "I
can't see what you are doing here!"

She stuck her umbrella in the soft earth along the graveled walk.

"We--we came in to shut the windows," said Amy, gently.

A change came over the woman's face. She frowned--she smiled. She turned
about and looked toward the nearest house. Then she spoke.

"Do you mean to tell me," she demanded, "that after I called her on the
telephone, Martha Black didn't come over, shut my windows, lock up my
house, and feed the cat? Didn't she?"

"We don't know. I'm afraid we don't know Mrs. Black," answered Betty. She
was getting control of herself now. The aggressive woman had rather
startled her at first.

"She lives down there," and the owner of the deserted house pointed
toward the nearest residence.

"No one is here but us," said Betty. "We closed the windows, and we fed
the cat. We also fed ourselves, but we left the money to pay for it.
Shall I get it?"

The woman stared at her blankly.

"I--I'm afraid I don't understand," she returned, weakly.

"I'll explain," said Betty, and she did, telling how they had come in
for shelter from the storm, how they had found the windows open, how
they had closed up the place and had eaten and slept in it. Now they
were going away.

"Well if that doesn't beat all!" cried the woman, in wonder.

"We couldn't understand how no one was at home," went on Betty.

"Well, it's easy enough explained," said the woman. "I'm Mrs. Kate
Robertson. Yesterday afternoon I got a telephone message from Kirkville,
saying my husband, who works in the plaster mill there, was hurt. Of
course that flustered me. Hiram Boggs brought the message. Of course you
don't know him."

"No," answered Betty, as Mrs. Robertson paused for breath.

"Well, I was flustered, of course, naturally," went on the large lady. "I
just rushed out as I was, got into Hiram Bogg's rig--he drives good
horses, I will say that for him--I got in with him, just as I was, though
I will say I had all my housework done and was thinking what to get for
supper. I got in with Hiram, and made him driv