The Cat in Grandfather's House Part 32

Except for a few scratches no one suffered any mishap.

"We've finished them this time," Malay Kris said complacently. "We must put this fellow where he can do no more harm."

Grater glared at them.

"I'll get even with you!" he promised.

"You'll be old and rusted to pieces by the time you escape," Kris retorted and wedged him tight against the door so that it could not be opened nor could Grater stir a hand or foot.

"You'll have a nice rest here," said Malay Kris. "It is quiet and n.o.body will disturb you."

Thus they left Grater, grinding his teeth in rage, and made their way into the cellar.

While they were eating their bits of cooky to make them large again, Hortense said,

"How can we prevent Jeremiah from setting Grater free?"

"We must block the way on this side, too," said Andy, immediately rolling a barrel before the sliding door in the air chute of the furnace. Upon this he piled a heavy box.

"If Jeremiah can move those, he is a smart cat," said Andy.

"Jeremiah is a smart cat," Hortense said, "but it's the best we can do."

In the kitchen they parted company, and as soon as Hortense was in bed she fell fast asleep and did not wake until the sun was high the next day.

After breakfast Fergus came to pry open the drawers in the lowboy that had refused to budge the day before.

"There's nothing the matter with them," said Fergus as they slid open at a touch. "They are just as usual."

"Why, so they are," said Grandmother and opened the upper drawer. "What in the world is this?"

The drawer was filled tight full of strawberries packed in neat boxes--and on top lay thirteen cookies!

Grandmother looked on these with astonishment.

"Wild strawberries!" said she tasting one. "And at this time of the year, too. They are delicious."

Grandfather and Fergus looked astonished, and Fergus scratched his head.

"Well," said Grandfather, "let's look at the highboy in Hortense's room. There's no telling what we'll find there."

They went to Hortense's room and again Fergus pulled open the drawers without difficulty. Boxes and boxes of raspberries lay on top of Hortense's things--and again there were thirteen cookies!

Grandfather and Grandmother raised their hands in amazement. They found no words to express their wonder. Later, when Mary came to Grandmother and reported that the sofa in the parlor had disappeared, Grandmother simply said, "The firedogs are gone from the hearth, too. There are queer doings in this house."

Hortense spent the afternoon in the library with Grandfather, her chin on her hand, thinking. From time to time she glanced at the image of Buddha. She thought she might tell Grandfather about all the strange things that had happened to her, but before doing so she resolved to try a plan which his words had put into her head.

Now and then Grandfather looked at her curiously, but he asked no questions, and Hortense could not guess his thoughts.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER XIII

"_This is what was inside,_"--

The little box of incense lay at the back of the drawer where Hortense had expected to find it. She laid it on top of Grandfather's desk.

It was really necessary to have a light in order to see what she was about, but a lamp or candle, either one, seemed out of place. There should be only enough light to see the expression on the face of the image. In a half-darkness, she thought, he would be more likely to speak.

She raised the window shades and threw the shutters open. Moonlight filled the room dimly and fell upon the bronze image, sitting as expressionless as ever, immovable. Hortense's heart failed her.

Nothing, she felt, would ever bring words to the closed lips or a flutter to the heavy eyelids. However, there was nothing to do but try.

She poured a little of the incense on an ash tray and touched a match to it. The wisp of smoke, pallid in the moonlight, curled slowly upwards and was lost to sight. A strong sweet odor filled the room.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Hortense burned incense to the image and sat motionless in Grandfather's chair to wait.]

Hortense moved the tray to the edge of the desk directly in front of the image and sat down in her Grandfather's chair to wait, her eyes fixed upon the calm round face before her. It looked like the face of a woman she thought, not that of a man.

She could see not the slightest change in the image after ever so long a time, though her eyes never left it. The incense was slowly consumed, and Hortense arose and added more. Still she watched, endlessly it seemed, until finally her eyes closed and she must have slept for a little, for when she opened them again the moonlight was far brighter than before and the image stood out in the fanciful shadows.

Yes, surely, the hand that now lay open had been raised and closed before. And the eyes looked at her instead of over her! Her heart beat quicker.

"You have moved," she said without thinking.

There was a slight stir of the bronze lips; then a soft measured voice said, "I wait, what is it you ask?"

"I should like," Hortense said, "to get back my charm."

"Jeremiah has it," said the Image, "and Jeremiah is getting to be a nuisance. I shall have to cut his claws."

How the Image could cut Jeremiah's claws, Hortense didn't see.

"That is to say," the Image went on, "he needs to be taken down."

Down to what, Hortense wondered. She sat a long while waiting for the Image to say more, but apparently it had gone back to sleep.

"Dear me, how slow it is!" Hortense said to herself. "I suppose it's like Grandfather's Clock and has all the time in the world."

She sat very silent and once or twice almost fell asleep.

The moonlight continued its slow and silent way across the floor until at last it rested full upon the Image.

"If you will take a paper knife," said the Image as though it had ceased speaking but a moment before, "and trace the flower pattern on my back, beginning in the center, you will find something."

Hortense, wondering, did as she was told. On the back of the Image, as it had said, was the pattern of a flower. Hortense followed the curves of its petals with the point of the knife. Then to her surprise the flower swung inward on an invisible hinge and there before her was an opening just large enough for her hand. Her fingers closed on something round and hard like a marble, which in the moonlight shone with little bright flashes and crinkles of gold and blue and rose. Hortense knew it was some precious stone.