XVII

So for two days the animals stayed at Aunt Etta’s, who, as Mrs. Wiggins said, was kindness itself. They sat on the front porch with her while she read the paper, and they ate the good things she prepared for them. A good many of the animals in the neighbourhood who had heard about them came to call and to ask about their travels, and as there were so many who were interested in their adventures, Charles very kindly consented to give a lecture in the big barn on the second evening. The name of the lecture was A Trip to the Sunny South, and it was a great success.

Then on the third day all the farmers and their wives from far and near who had had things stolen by the burglars gathered in Aunt Etta’s parlour, because that was the day the advertisement in the paper had told them to come, to get their things back. All the jewellery and money and watches and silverware were tastefully arranged on little tables covered with white doilies, and all the farmers had to do was to pick out the things that belonged to them. And when they had all got their property back, they made a great fuss over the animals, and one nice old lady, whose name was Mrs. Trigg, and who owned the rope of pearls that Mrs. Wiggins had dressed up in, said: “I wish there was something we could do for these good, kind animals to show them how much we appreciate what they have done for us. Can anyone think of anything?”

The farmers and their wives all clapped their hands and cheered at this, and made more of a fuss over the animals than ever, but no one could think of any way to reward them.

Then Robert had an idea, and he went up to Mrs. Trigg and barked three times.

“I believe that dog understood what you said,” said Aunt Etta. “Just see the way he’s looking at you.”

Then Robert ran a little way toward the kitchen, and stopped and looked back; so Aunt Etta and Mrs. Trigg followed him, and he went straight to a shelf in the kitchen and stood on his hind legs and put his forepaws on the edge of it and looked over his shoulder at them and barked again.

There were a number of things on the shelf. There was a photograph of Aunt Etta, and a photograph of her married daughter who lived in Rochester, and a spool of black darning-cotton, and an alarm-clock, and a butcher’s bill, and a picture postcard of Niagara Falls, and seven beans, and a box of matches, and quite a lot of dust. The dust was there because Aunt Etta, although she was a kind-hearted woman, wasn’t a very good housekeeper. She spent too much time reading the newspaper.

“Now, what do you suppose he wants up there?” said Mrs. Trigg.

“Why I do believe,” said Aunt Etta, and I think she blushed a little—“I do believe he wants that picture of me!” And she took the picture down and gave it to Robert.

Of course the picture wasn’t what Robert wanted at all, but he was too polite to let her know it, and he thanked her by wagging his tail and smiling the way dogs do. And then he put his forepaws on the shelf and barked again.

“He wants something else, too,” said Mrs. Trigg. “Now what can it be?” And she began touching all the things on the shelf and looking at Robert. And when she touched the alarm-clock, he barked very loud, so she knew that was what he wanted. So Aunt Etta gave him the clock, and he carried it and the picture out on the porch and showed them to the other animals.

“Now,” he said, “we’ve got an alarm-clock for Mr. Bean, Charles. You won’t have to get up early in the morning any more when we get back.” And Charles was very much pleased.

“Now we’ve got an alarm-clock for Mr. Bean.”

It was getting along toward supper-time by now, and all the farmers were climbing into their buggies and automobiles and driving away. They were happy to have recovered their valuables, and when somebody started to sing, they all joined in. Many of them sang part-songs all the way home. It was very inspiring.

Soon there was nobody left on the porch but Aunt Etta and her niece and Mrs. Trigg and a stout lady who lived across the road and whose name was Mrs. Hackenbutt.

“It does seem to me,” said Aunt Etta, “that a photograph and an alarm-clock are a very small reward to give these animals for bringing back our things.”

“It isn’t very much,” agreed her niece, “but I can’t think of anything else. Can you?”

“I can think of something,” said Mrs. Hackenbutt suddenly. “We could help them to get all that dreadful paint off. I’ve been watching that cat and he’s been licking himself for an hour. He wants to get it off. Now, if we could give them a good scrubbing——”

“That might do,” said Aunt Etta. “I always say that there’s nothing that good hot suds won’t take out.”

Now, if there is anything a cat hates more than cold water, it is hot water, and so Jinx immediately crawled under the porch and stayed there. Hank and Mrs. Wiggins would have liked to crawl under too, but of course they were too large. As for Robert and Freddy, they thought it was undignified to run away, so they sat nobly on the porch and waited while the women heated water in the wash-boiler and brought it out to them.

Then Mrs. Hackenbutt and Aunt Etta’s niece rolled up their sleeves and set to work with scrubbing-brushes. They scrubbed and scrubbed, and pretty soon the thick paint began to loosen its hold on the animals’ skins and peel off. “This isn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be,” said Mrs. Wiggins.

“It’s fine,” said Hank. “I used to wonder why Mr. Bean took a bath every Saturday night, but I know now why he likes it so much.”

When they had got off as much paint as they could, the women led the animals round to the pump and rinsed them off with buckets of cool well-water. But Jinx didn’t come out until it was all over, and then he took care to keep out of sight.

They stayed at Aunt Etta’s house that night, and would have liked to stay longer, but they knew that Mr. Bean needed them and thought they ought to start along. They hurried back to the log house in the woods and dug up the gold and put it in the phaeton.

“And now,” said Freddy, “our adventures are over. Soon we’ll be back in our own comfortable home again, and I for one shall be glad to be there.”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Wiggins, “our adventures are over for this year at least.”

But she was wrong. For the most exciting adventure of all was lying in wait for them up the long, homeward road.