"May I be excused, mother?" Patience asked. "I'll wait out on the
porch."
And Mrs. Shaw replied most willingly that she might.
"Is there anything more--to see, I mean, not to eat?" Hilary asked. "I
don't see how there can be."
"Are you through?" Pauline answered. "Because, if you are, I'll show
you."
"It was sent to Paul," Patience called, from the hall door. "But she
says, of course, it was meant for us all; and I think, myself, she's
right about that."
"Is it--alive?" Hilary asked.
"'It' was--before supper," Pauline told her. "I certainly hope nothing
has happened to--'it' since then."
"A dog?" Hilary suggested.
"Wait and see; by the way, where's that kitten?"
"She's to follow in a few days; she was a bit too young to leave home
just yet."
"I've got the sugar!" Patience called.
Hilary stopped short at the foot of the porch steps. Patience's
remark, if it had not absolutely let the cat out of the bag, had at
least opened the bag. "Paul, it can't be--"
"In the Shaw's dictionary, at present, there doesn't appear to be any
such word as can't," Pauline declared. "Come on---after all, you know,
the only way to find out--is to find out.
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