“Who else?” asked Tess. “All of those walnuts?” said Dot, in horror. “And those sandwiches? And not leave a crumb on the plates?” “She looks just as though she had,” determined Tess. “You—you are an awful bad cat, Sandy-face,” said Dot, almost in tears. “And I just hope those walnuts will disagree with your stomach—so now!” Tess was quite angry with the cat herself. She stamped her foot and cried “Shoo!” Sandy-face leaped away, surprised by such attentions, and scrambled up stairs in a hurry. Almost at once the two girls heard her utter a surprised yowl, and down she came from the garret, her tail as large as three tails, her eyes like saucers, and every indication of panic in her movements. She shot away for the back stairs, and so down to the hall and out of doors. “I don’t care,” exclaimed Dot. “I know those walnuts are disagreeing with her right now, and I’m glad. My! but she was punished soon for her greediness, wasn’t she, Tess?” There was something going on at the Creamer cottage, next door to the old Corner House. Tess and Dot became aware of this fact at about this time, so did not bother their heads much about Sandy’s supposed gluttony. Some of the windows on the second floor of the cottage were darkened, and every morning a closed carriage stopped before the house and a man went in with a black bag in his hand. Tess and Dot were soon wondering what could be happening to the little Creamer girls. The only one they saw was the curly haired one, who had spoken so unpleasantly to them on a particular occasion. They saw her wandering about the yard, and knew that she did not play, and was often crying by herself behind the clumps of bushes. So Tess, whose heart was opened immediately to any suffering thing, ventured near the picket fence again, and at last spoke to the Creamer girl. “What’s the matter, please?” Tess asked. “Did you lose anything? Can we help you find it?” The curly headed girl looked at her in surprise. Her pretty face was all streaked with tears. “You—you want to keep away from me!” she blurted out. “Oh, dear, me!” said Tess, clinging to Dot’s hand. “I didn’t mean to offend you again.” “Well, you’ll catch it, maybe,” sniffled the Creamer girl, whose name was Mabel. “Catch what?” asked Tess. “Something dreadful. All my sisters have it.” “Goodness!” breathed Dot. “What is it?” asked Tess, bravely standing her ground. “It’s _quarantine_,” declared Mabel Creamer, solemnly. “And I have to sleep in the library, and I can’t go up stairs. Neither does pop. And mamma never comes down stairs at all. And I have to play alone here in the yard,” sighed Mabel. “It’s just awful!” “I should think it was,” gasped Tess. “Then, that must be a doctor that comes to your house every day?” “Yes. And he is real mean. He won’t let me see mamma—only she comes to the top of the stairs and I have to stay at the bottom. Quarantine’s a _nawful_ thing to have in the house.