“I expect so,” agreed Ruth. “What do you suppose is in all these chests and trunks, Ruthie?” asked Tess. “Don’t know, honey. But we’ll find out some day.” Just then Uncle Rufus’ tones reached them from the stairway. He called, in his quavering old voice: “Missie! An’ you oder chillen. I done got somet’ing ter tell yo’.” “What is it?” cried Agnes, running to open the door at the top of the stairs. “I done foun’ out what happen ter dem kittens, Missie,” said Uncle Rufus. “You-all come ri’ down an’ I’ll show yo’.” CHAPTER XII MRS. KRANZ COMES TO CALL The girls came down from the garret in a hurry, when they heard this news. Uncle Rufus hobbled on before to the kitchen. There was Sandy-face and Spotty in front of the range. They were both very wet and the old cat was licking the kitten dry. “Where—where’s the others?” cried Tess. “Did you find Almira?” “I want my Bungle,” declared Dot. “Didn’t you find my Bungle kitten, Uncle Rufus?” “Sho, chile! I didn’t say I foun’ dem kittens. I on’y say I knowed where dey went.” “Where?” was the chorused demand. Uncle Rufus rolled his eyes and chuckled deeply. “Das ol’ cat play a joke on we-uns,” he declared. “She t’ink she an’ de kittens on’y come yere for a visit. And so she lug ’em all back to Mars’ Stetson’s store—ya-as’m!” “Carried them back to the store?” cried Ruth. “Oh! she couldn’t.” “Ya-as’m. One at a time. In her teef,” said Uncle Rufus, nodding confidently. “I jes’ kotch her out on the sidewalk wid dis leetle brack kitten, marchin’ straight fo’ de store. Dat how she come go ’way an’ stay so long. Nex’ time you go to Mars’ Stetson’s, you find dem dere—sho’.” “But she couldn’t have taken them out of the woodshed,” cried Agnes. “Ya-as’m, she did. She git out de winder. A cat kin squeeze through a moughty small space—so she kin.” “Why, you foolish Sandy-face!” exclaimed Dot. “And we tried to make you feel at home—didn’t we, Ruthie?” “Butter her feet,” said Aunt Sarah, who chanced to be in the kitchen at the moment. “I told you that before,” and she walked out. “Goodness! we’ll butter all their feet,” cried Agnes, “if that will keep them here. Just as soon as it holds up a little, I’ll run over to Mr. Stetson’s and see if it is so. The poor old thing! to carry those kittens so far. But, me-oh-my! cats haven’t much sense, after all, have they?” Uncle Rufus was proved right—and that before supper time. The rain held up, and Agnes scurried over to the store, bringing back, huddled in a small covered basket, Popocatepetl, Almira, and Bungle, who all seemed very glad to rejoin Spotty. Sandy-face looked absurdly pleased to see them—just as though she had not carried them back, one by one, to a hiding place behind the flour barrels in Mr. Stetson’s store-room! Agnes insisted upon buttering the mother-cat’s paws. And to make sure of it, she buttered the paws of the four kittens as well.