ETHAN FROME
shouldn't get broke." She laid the fragments reverently on the table. "I want to know who done this," she quavered.
At the challenge Ethan turned back into the room and faced her. "I can tell you, then. The cat done it."
"The cat?"
"That's what I said."
She looked at him hard, and then turned her eyes to Mattie, who was carrying the dish-pan to the table.
"I'd like to know how the cat got into my china-closet," she said.
"Chasin' mice, I guess," Ethan rejoined. "There was a mouse round the kitchen all last evening."
Zeena continued to look from one to the other; then she emitted her small strange laugh. "I knew the cat was a smart cat," she said in a high voice, "but I didn't know he was smart enough to pick up the pieces of my pickle-dish and lay 'em edge to edge on the very shelf he knocked 'em off of."
Mattie suddenly drew her arms out of the steam-
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