Read Online Who Is Frances Rain? by Margaret Buffie - Free Book Online Page B

Can you see her?”
    We all stared at the golden sausage with the sweet face.
    â€œErica,” I said patiently, “if Bram ate her, then she is not going to be in his mouth.” I shook my head sadly. “Besides, she could have got away.”
    â€œBut I saw her tail hanging out of his mouth!” she wailed. “Like this.” And she wiggled her fingers in front of her lips. “Look in his mouth. She could be there. Look, Lizzie, please?” She was jiggling up and down, her voice pleading.
    â€œBram, come’ere,” I said.
    He looked at me, considering, then slowly dragged his belly over to where all three of us were down on our knees waiting. I examined his soft lips and yellow teeth. Not a sign of gore, not even a bit of fur stuck to a canine tooth.
    Alex looked at Erica and smiled. “I don’t think he ate Daisy at all. I bet he dropped her off on his run around the yard. I was watching and there was no way he had time to get in a good chew. He was probably so surprised to find her inside his mouth, I’ll bet he dropped her right away. My dog does it all the time.”
    â€œHe does?” she asked, wiping the dirt around her face. “You mean Daisy could have run home by now?”
    â€œYup. That’s what I think happened,” he said. “As far as I’m concerned, she’s home right now with an ice pack between her ears, telling all her neighbours about her big adventure. Hey! You wanna go fishing, Erica? You too, Stringbean. I know a great fishing spot not too far from here.”
    Erica beamed wetly up at him. “I’ll bet she
is
home. I’ll go get my stuff.” She waddled off.
    â€œAnd wash your face,” I called out. I looked at Alex suspiciously. “You mean to tell me that your big brute of a dog catches chipmunks and then spits them out safe and sound?”
    â€œWell ... he spits them out. By the time they hit the ground, they’re usually dead as furry doornails.”
    â€œPoor old Daisy,” I sighed. Bram wagged his tail and gazed happily at no one in particular.

Chapter Fifteen
    A LITTLE while later, we were bobbing around on the water, our lines deep, and the motor putting slowly along. When we passed Rain Island, I looked hard at the stand of trees in its centre. Sitting there in the boat, chewing on an Eatmore and drinking a cola, I had trouble believing that anything strange had happened the day before. The Alice in Wonder-land theory still held up. I’d almost told Gran about it after supper, but all that arguing kept me quiet. Now, I was just as glad. It all seemed so ridiculous.
    We got back two hours later, with five good-sized pickerel and a couple of small perch. When she asked for lunch, I knew Erica had forgotten about Daisy. Alex followed us into the veranda looking hungry, too.
    â€œWant a sandwich?” I asked him.
    â€œWouldn’t say no to one. Wouldn’t say no to two, either.”
    Evan, who’d been asleep when we left, was sitting on the veranda reading a book. He pointedly ignored us. Alex batted his feet out of the way and sat down on the end of the lounge.
    â€œYou guys want a lemonade or anything?” I asked.
    â€œSounds great,” said Alex. Evan scowled at his book.
    I shrugged and went to check out the food situation. Mother was still in the kitchen. A pile of dirty coffee cups, filled ashtrays, books and briefcases were spread all around the table. Gran was peeling potatoes and casting savage looks at her daughter’s bowed head.
    Tim was in the main room, slumped on a couch, reading a mystery book with a ferocious frown on his face. I felt like screaming a few dirty words into the air, just to see what would happen.
    Over lunch, things got tougher. Gran and I gave up trying to talk to the store window dummies that looked like Mother, Tim and Evan. It helped having Alex there, though. He talked to Gran about plans for a new dock in the landing