Blizzard smiled sweetly, and showed a set of very bad teeth. “In time, I dare say you will bring me over to your opinion. At present, I should like to have a little further conversation with you. Will you walk with me and Rosy?”
All this time, he had never noticed Slyboots and me, beyond throwing us one shrewd glance. He saw that we did not approve of him, and he would not be bothered with us. His present plan was to get Serena out of our reach, so he could fool her to his heart's content.
“Don't go with them, Serena,” and I stepped up, and whispered in her ear.
She tossed her head, then sauntered along with Blizzard and Rosy.
Joker followed them, grinning from ear to ear, and Slyboots and I returned slowly to the house.
The farmer's wife gave us a good breakfast, then we lay out on the veranda in the sun. When an hour had passed, after the Denvilles had had their breakfast, Serena and Joker reappeared. Serena was laughing and talking excitedly, and shaking her head, and seemed to be in high good humor with herself and all the cat world.
“Where have you been?” I inquired anxiously, as she passed me.
“Oh, having a walk on the meadow with those two delightful cats. I am going out again with them to-morrow evening,” and she looked mysterious.
“Serena!” I exclaimed. Then after a while, I asked her why she was going with those strangers.
For a long time, she would not tell me. She said it was a secret.
“Have you promised not to tell?” I asked.
“Then don't,” I replied, but then she wanted to, and at last whispered that she was going on a mole-hunt.
I was not much enlightened. However, I said nothing more at the time. I just worried in secret. Serena and Joker disappeared in the house in search of something to eat, and I coiled myself up again on the veranda, for by this time the sun was further up in the sky, and the air felt quite warm.
After a time, Mary and her mother came out. They both had on big sun hats, and they stood for a few minutes looking silently at the lovely view out through the maples. The Green Hills were soft and hazy in the distance, and near at hand were the fine shade trees, and the shock-headed pink and white apple-trees.
“Glorious,” murmured Mrs. Denville, “too glorious to linger indoors. Come, Mary, let us go over the farm.”