"No, you can't. I get lots of them. They bother me a little because Mrs. Croft's cousin died of blood-poison from one. There, it's out. What was I saying? Oh, yes, the cat."
"It's a he. Named Alfred for her husband. He's up in her room now. Always sleeps on her bed. She will have him, and I humor her. She's my only sister and she can't live long and she's left me all her money, and I humor her. It's my plain duty."
"Is it healthy for an invalid to sleep with a cat?"
"No, it ain't. But I promised to do whatever she said about the cat and the garden, and I do."
"I'm sure it's very good in you," Jane murmured, looking out of the window.
"It is. I'm a good woman. I do my whole duty, and there's not many in a town this size can say as much."
"I'll show you, if you don't mind getting your feet wet. I have my rubbers on already, to travel, so I can go right there now while the fire is kindling."
"Most grass is wet, at five in the morning."
Jane wanted to laugh. "I mean, isn't there a path?"
"Part way, and then you have to climb two fences."
"Climb! Two!" the niece turned in surprise.
"Climb two fences. You never saw such a place. The strip between is rented for a cow-pasture. That's why there's two fences."
"Don't ask me. Find out if you can. I've lived here five years, and I ain't found out. You try and see if you'll do better. She's very secretive, and so was he before he died. I've just had to get along the best I could. She fails and fails steady, but it don't seem to affect her health none, and now at last it's affected mine instead and give me neophytes in my left arm."
Jane turned her head and looked some more out of the window.
"We'll go now. Might as well. The kettle will get to boiling while we're away, and then we'll have breakfast. It boils slow, because I've got the eggs in it for my lunch. Come on."
The question of the wet grass seemed to have faded. They went out the kitchen door. It was a clear, bright morning. "Weedy weather," commented Matilda, and led the way down the path.
"It's a pretty place," said Jane, her eyes roaming happily.
"Yes, I suppose so. But it takes an artist or some one who hasn't lived in it for five years to feel that way." She paused to climb the first fence. It was three rails high and very awkward. "I'll go over first," she said. "Think of it; I've done this six times a day for five years."