to bottom, but there was no dainty Lady Jane to be
seen.

"She'll come back sometime," said their mother; but the children were
not so sure of this.

It seemed sad to go to bed without knowing what fate had befallen Lady
Jane; but their mother was sure she would come back that night.

In the morning Peggy ran downstairs eagerly before she was dressed.

"Has she come, mother?" she asked.

"Has who come?" said her mother, whose mind was on starting the kitchen
fire.

"Lady Jane."

"No, she hasn't come."

"And it is so wet," said Peggy, as she looked at the falling rain;
"she'll get drenched without any rubbers or raincoat."

"You can be sure she is under shelter somewhere. A cat can always look
out for herself."

"But, mother, I'm worried about her."

"I think," said Mrs. Owen, as she put the oatmeal into the
double-boiler, "that she has gone back to her old home."

"But, mother dear, she couldn't like strange people better than she
likes us!"

"Cats are strange creatures," said Mrs. Owen. "Run along and get
dressed. After breakfast if the rain holds up you and Alice can run over
to the Hortons' house and telephone to the Carters', to see if she is
there. I shall be glad when we get our telephone in."

The rain did not stop, but the children were so persistent that after
breakfast Mrs. Owen let them put on their rubbers and raincoats and run
over to the Hortons' house. The house was up a long avenue of trees. On
this March day there were no leaves on the trees, and the bare branches
looked black against the gray sky as they were tossed about by the wind.
There were patches of snow by the side of the road. It all looked very
dismal, for the house was closed, as the family did not come back until
June, and only the care-takers were living in the back part of the
house. It was where Clara lived in the summer. She was the children's
most intimate friend. She was a little more than a year younger than
Peggy and about a year older than Alice. The children went around to the
back door and asked if they could come in and telephone.

"It is something very important or we would not have come," said Peggy.

"I hope your mother isn't sick," said Mrs. Jones.

"No, it is about the cat."

"And you came out in all this rain about a cat?"

"She's as dear to us as if she was our child," said Alice.

"Well, I never!" said Mrs. Jones, as she led the way to the telephone
room.

Peggy called up their old number. It