Part 43 (1/2)
Ernest and Jane hunted the room over, but the mice had disappeared.
When they fed Pete that night he seemed droopy and turned up his nose at his best beloved dainties.
”Has Pete been loose today?” asked Dr. Morton.
”Yes, but I don't think he went out of the front room upstairs,” replied Mrs. Morton.
”Well, I'd be willing to wager Pete knows what became of the baby mice,”
laughed the doctor. ”Trim him up with flowers, Chicken, and he'll make a nice green grave for the dear departed.”
A few days later Jane and Gertie were playing paper dolls in one of the window recesses upstairs and remembering the mice decided to have a doll funeral. But a funeral required mourning and they couldn't find a sc.r.a.p of black paper. While they were rummaging, they came across their find of old newspapers, which Mrs. Morton had stacked up on a table till Dr.
Morton found time to look them over. Jane noticed that some of them had heavy black bands across the front page.
”Say, they'd be fine--we could paste them close together on white paper for the dresses and veils.”
She started off to ask her mother's permission to use them.
”Why, I don't know whether your father wants any of them or not. He spoke as if he would like to save a few--you might take the ones the mice nibbled.”
There were four or five of these and the children were soon busily engaged in cutting out the black strips. When Gertie unfolded the last one two letters fell out.
Jane pounced upon them with a shriek. ”Oh, Gertie, do you s'pose?”
”Maybe they are--let's take them to your mother quick!”
The little girls pattered downstairs to Mrs. Morton, thrilled with excitement.
”Don't get so excited, children. Little ladies should learn to compose themselves.”
She slowly put on her spectacles and deliberately examined the envelopes.
”They do seem to be addressed to Mr. Fletcher, but there isn't one chance in a hundred they are of any value. However, I'll turn them over to Mr. Harding.”
”Oh, Mother, see what's inside, quick!”
”My dear little daughter, I have no right to read other people's letters. Mr. Harding is Alice's lawyer and it is his place not mine to examine these. You little girls may get your hats and take them down to Mr. Harding's office. I think I can trust you not to drop them.”
The children surprised d.i.c.k Harding by rus.h.i.+ng in waving the letters breathlessly. They had run about half the way in their zeal. He was a more satisfactory listener than Mrs. Morton--he was excited, too. It took him about four minutes to run through the letters, Chicken Little and Gertie explaining how they came to find them while he read.
The first letter he dropped impatiently, muttering, ”No good.” After a glance at the signature of the second he said ”Ah” softly.
When he had finished it, he jumped up and seizing Chicken Little with one hand and Gertie by the other, spun them round the room so fast he made their heads swim.
”Blessed be paper dolls and little girls! One sentence in that letter will do the work or I am no lawyer! Go home and look through the other papers and see if you can find any more, though I don't believe we need them.”
CHAPTER XIX
THINGS HAPPEN