Mr. Bobbsey looked in
some of the other, and smaller, lockers, but all he found was a tiny
hole, hardly big enough for a mouse.
"Perhaps it was a mouse," he said. "Anyhow, I'll set a trap there.
Dinah, toast me a bit of cheese."
"Cheese, Massa Bobbsey!" exclaimed the colored cook. "Yo' knows yo'
cain't eat cheese. Ebery time yo' does, yo' gits de insispepsia suffin
terrible--specially toasted cheese."
"I don't intend to eat it!" answered the twins' father, with a laugh.
"I'm going to bait a trap with cheese to catch the mice. I don't care
whether they get the indigestion or not."
"Oh! Dat's diffunt," said Dinah. "I'll toast yo' some."
The trap was set, but for two or three days, though it was often
looked at, no mice were caught. Meanwhile, several times, Dinah said
she missed food from her kitchen. It was only little things, though,
and the Bobbseys paid small attention to her, for Dinah was often
forgetful, and might have been mistaken.
"I really think we have some rats aboard," said Mr. Bobbsey. "There
are some on nearly every boat. I have heard noises in the night that
could be made only by rats."
"And Snap still acts queerly, whenever he passes that locker," said
Mrs. Bobbsey. "I'm not so sure it is a rat that made that noise,
Richard."
"No?" her husband asked.
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