out a
sound the body rolled over on the grass. Fly saw that she had killed
it. Her heart jumped for joy. She could hardly believe she had really
done this wonderful thing. Andy's enemy lay dead at her feet, struck
down by her unerring aim. What would the others say? What would Andy
say? How they would all praise her! She felt that God had helped her.
It must be He who had brought the cat within her reach and given her
power to kill it with one blow of a stone. Honeybird's voice called
from the garden. Fly gave a little gasp--her heart was beating so
quickly with excitement. To find a godmother and to kill a cat in one
day!--had anybody else ever had such happiness? She got down from the
wall, and took the dead cat in her arms. She must go to the godmother
now, and wait till she had gone before she could tell the others.
There was nobody at home to tell except Honeybird, for Jane had gone
with Andy on the car to bring Mick and Patsy home from school. She
would hide the cat in the stables, she thought, and when the others
came home she would produce it dramatically, and see what they would
do. On the way through the garden she met Honeybird coming to find her.

"She's come," said Honeybird, "in a wee donkey carriage an' a furry
cloak; but I'm feared she's got nuthin' with her, 'cause I walked all
round her to see."

Fly held up the cat. "I've just kilt it with wan blow av a stone," she
said.

"Well done you," said Honeybird joyfully. "Bad auld divil," addressing
the dead cat, "what for did ye eat the neck out a' Andy's rabbits?"
Then her tone changed. "Give him to me, Fly, to play feeneral with.
Sure, you've got a godmother, an' I've got nuthin' at all." Fly had
not the heart to refuse. She gave Honeybird the dead cat, but
explained that she must be allowed to dig it up again to show it to
Andy. Then she ran quickly towards the house. A smell of pancakes
came from the kitchen. Lull was getting tea ready for the visitor.
Fly felt that life was richer than she had ever known it to be. At the
drawing-room door she paused to mutter a little prayer of thanksgiving.
She hardly knew what she had been expecting, but she was a little bit
disappointed when she opened the door and went in. Her godmother was
sitting on a sofa. She was a little woman, dressed in dull black; an
old-fashioned fur-lined cloak fell from her shoulders; a lace veil,
turned over her bonnet, hung down like a curtain behind. She w