"I'll tell you what," said Tattine thoughtfully, "shouldn't wonder if they
belong to Betsy. I've seen her crowding herself through one of the air-holes
under the piazza several times lately," whereupon the children hurried to peer
through the air hole. Nothing was to be seen, however, for the piazza floor
was not more than a foot and a half from the ground, and it was filled with
all sorts of weeds that flourished without sunshine. Still the little puppy
cries were persistently wafted out from some remote corner, and, pulling off
his jacket, Rudolph started to crawl in and investigate. It did not seem
possible that he could make his way, for the place was not high enough for him
even to crawl on his hands and knees, and he had rather to worm himself along
on his elbows in quite indescribable fashion. Still, Tattine and Mabel were
more than ready to have him try, and waited patiently, bending over with their
hands upon their knees, and gazing in through the weed-grown hole in
breathless, excited fashion.
"I believe I'll have to give it up," Rudolph called back; "the cries seem as
far off as ever and I'm all but scratched to pieces." "Oh, don't! don't!"
cried Tattine and Mabel, in one breath, and Mabel added, "We MUST know what
they are and where they are.
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