He was a very old and
very quiet man, and the majority of the girls and boys in Lakeport were
afraid of him. He lived all alone and was thought to be queer.
"I--I can see," said Bert hesitatingly.
He ran across the common to Mr. Roscoe's house and rapped on the door.
Nobody came and he rapped again, and then a third time.
"Who's there?" asked a voice from within.
"Please, Mr. Roscoe, is that you?" asked Bert.
"Yes."
"Well, our kitten is on the top of your old barn and can't get down. Can
you lend me a ladder to get him down with?"
"Kitten on my barn? How did he get there?" and now the old man opened
the door slowly and cautiously. He was bent with age and had white hair
and a long white beard.
"He went up with a kite," said Bert, and explained the case, to which
the old man listened with interest.
"Well! well! well!" exclaimed Mr. Roscoe, in a high piping voice. "Going
to take a sail through the air, was he? You'll have to build him a
balloon, eh?"
"I think he had better stay on the ground after this."
"He must be a high-flyer of a cat," and the old man chuckled over his
joke.
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