“But goodness!” ejaculated Ruth, in some timidity, “we do not expect to be in society _now_. We don’t know many people yet. And not a soul has been inside the door to call upon us since we arrived.” However, their circle of acquaintance was steadily widening. CHAPTER VIII THE CAT THAT WENT BACK Agnes put her hand upon it in the pantry and dropped a glass dish ker-smash! She screamed so, that Ruth came running, opened the door, and, as it scurried to escape into the dining-room, the oldest Kenway girl dodged and struck her head with almost stunning force against the doorframe. She “saw stars” for a few moments. “Oh! oh!” screamed Agnes. “Ow! ow!” cried Ruth. “Whatever is the matter with you girls?” demanded Mrs. McCall, hurrying in from the front hall. She suddenly saw it, following the baseboard around the room in a panic of fear, and Mrs. McCall gathered her skirts close about her ankles and called Uncle Rufus. “He, he!” chuckled the black man, making one swoop for Mrs. Mouse and catching her in a towel. “All disher combobberation over a leetle, teeny, gray mouse. Glo-ree! s’pose hit had been a rat?” “The house is just over-run with mice,” complained Mrs. McCall. “And traps seem to do no good. I always _would_ jump, if I saw a mouse. I can’t help it.” “Me, too,” cried Agnes. “There’s something so sort of _creepy_ about mice. Worse than spiders.” “Oh, dear!” moaned Ruth, holding the side of her head. “I wish you’d find some way of getting rid of them, Uncle Rufus. I’m afraid of them, too.” “Lor’ bress yo’ heart an’ soul, Missie! I done cotched this one fo’ you-uns, an’ I wisht I could ketch ’em all. But Unc’ Rufus ain’t much of a mouser—naw suh! What you-alls wants is a cat.” “We ought to have a good cat—that’s a fact,” admitted Mrs. McCall. “I like cats,” said Dot, who had come in to see what the excitement was all about. “There’s one runs along our back fence. Do you ’spect we could coax her to come in here and hunt mouses? Let’s show her this one Uncle Rufus caught, and maybe she’ll follow us in,” added the hopeful little girl. Although this plan for securing a cat did not meet with the family’s approval, Agnes was reminded of the cat problem that very afternoon, when she had occasion to go to Mr. Stetson’s grocery store, where the family traded. She liked Myra Stetson, the groceryman’s daughter, almost as well as she did Eva Larry. And Myra had nothing to say about the “haunt” which was supposed to pester the old Corner House. Myra helped about the store, after school hours and on Saturdays. When Agnes entered this day, Mr. Stetson was scolding. “I declare for’t!” he grumbled. “There’s no room to step around this store for the cats. Myra! I can’t stand so many cats—they’re under foot all the time. You’ll have to get rid of some of your pets. It’s making me poor to feed them all, in the first place!” “Oh, father!” cried Myra. “They keep away the mice, you know.”