The Old Willis Place

knew the dog had to leave. The old woman told Lassie it was all right. If she had to go, why, go she must.
    Georgie breathed out a long sigh. We were glad Lassie was on her way but sorry for the old man and woman, left alone in their cottage, too sad to eat their evening meal.The old man offered to bring home another dog, a small one, but no dog could take Lassie's place. So he suggested a cat instead, "the bonniest little cat ye ever did see."
    Georgie glanced at Nero sitting nearby, licking his paws and scrubbing his face. "I bet it was a big black cat just like Nero."
    At my brother's urging, I kept reading until I finished. The story ended just as Georgie had hoped. After a few more struggles, Lassie made it home and met Joe at the school gate as she used to. This time Mr. Carraclough didn't make Joe return the dog to the duke. Instead, he nursed Lassie back to health. In the end, the duke hired Joe's father to run the kennel, he let Joe keep Lassie, and Lassie had puppies.
    Georgie grinned. "I wish I could hear it all over again."

Chapter 15
    Later that day, I walked to the trailer. It was too cold for Lissa to do her schoolwork at the picnic table, but I hung around for a while, hoping she'd come out. I liked Mr. Morrison, but I wasn't in the mood to pretend to be a normal girl.
    After several minutes, I gave up and knocked at the door. Maybe Mr. Morrison was busy in his room, writing his book.
    But no, he opened the door and gave me a big smile. "Why, Diana," he said, "come in. You must be freezing in that thin blouse and skirt. And look at your feet. Where are your shoes?"
    I hesitated on the threshold, heedless of the wind blowing through the open door. Oh, why did he and Lissa have to ask so many questions?
    Before I could change my mind and run back to the woods, Mr. Morrison took my hand and drew me inside. "I promise not to give you any more chicken soup," he said with a laugh. "I didn't realize you were a vegetarian."
    A vegetarian—he and Lissa had an amazing ability to come up with explanations for my odd behavior. I supposed the truth was too fantastic for them to guess.
    Lissa came out of her bedroom and mumbled a greeting. She was pale. Anxious.
    "Miss Grump got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," Mr. Morrison told me, winking to show he was teasing Lissa. "She hasn't had one nice thing to say."
    "I brought your book back." I handed Lassie to Lissa. "We finished it this morning. Thanks for letting us borrow it."
    Lissa took the book as if it no longer interested her and laid it on a table beside the couch. I couldn't think of what I'd said or done to make her mad, but something was obviously bothering her.
    "And Clematis, if you still want to read it." I laid the tattered book, its pages warped from the shed's dampness, beside Lassie. "It's a good story. With a happy ending."
    "Thanks." Lissa opened it, releasing a slight odor of mildew. "I like the illustrations. They're so quaint."
    Mr. Morrison leaned over to take a look. "'By Bertha and Ernest Cobb,'" he read. "Copyright 1917. That is an old book. Where did you find it?"
    Inwardly I groaned at yet another question. "In a used-book store," I lied.
    Mr. Morrison nodded and handed Lissa MacDuff's leash. "Why don't you two take MacDuff for a walk," he suggested. "You could both use some fresh air."
    While Lissa snapped the leash to MacDuff's collar, Mr. Morrison turned to me. "That silly dog kept Lissa and me awake all night, barking his fool head off. I don't know what's gotten into him. All I heard was the wind, howling up a storm out there in the woods."
    "It was really blowing hard." I made an effort to sound like an ordinary person talking about the weather, but I knew what MacDuff had heard. And so did Lissa. Miss Lilian must have wandered all over the farm in the dark and the cold, searching for Georgie and me.
    Suddenly anxious to leave, Lissa grabbed her jacket from a hook near the door. "Do you want to borrow a sweatshirt, Diana?"
    "For heaven's sake, yes," Mr. Morrison answered for me. "She must be freezing."
    To satisfy them, I pulled Lissa's thick red sweatshirt over my head and followed her and MacDuff outside.
    "Don't let Diana blow away in the wind," Mr. Morrison called to Lissa.
    Lissa gave him one of those looks I'd given my father when he'd said something embarrassing. She didn't answer him or speak to me. I'd never seen her so quiet.
    After we were out of Mr. Morrison's sight, Lissa turned to me anxiously. "It