Mary pushed the sandwiches into her leather bag and hurried outside. She had a plan! No one in the house seemed to want to be her friend, but she had a feeling that maybe there was someone—or something—in the garden who would. What she would really have liked to be doing was exploring the upper floor of the house and solving the mystery of the night cries. The strange look Martha had given her that morning when she had mentioned noises in the night had convinced her that something was being kept from her, and Mary was determined to find out what it was. But she didn’t dare risk exploring and Mrs. Medlock finding her. She wasn’t sure what the housekeeper would do if she found Mary “poking about,” but she didn’t want to find out.

I’ll wait until tonight, she thought. When everyone’s asleep.

In the meantime, she was going to concentrate on something else. She hurried to where she had eaten her lunch the day before. Feeling very daring, she unwrapped a sandwich and took out the Spam. She placed it in the exact same spot where she had thrown it before. Looking around hopefully, she retreated to the tree stump and sat down to wait. Where was the dog? She’d been sure it would be here, and even a dog as a friend would be better than nothing.

She waited and waited.

“Come on,” she whispered. “Please come.”

She heard a bark and saw that the shaggy brown dog was standing in the bushes. “There you are!” she said, smiling as it trotted out and gobbled the meat up, watching her all the time.

“Hello,” Mary said. She felt strange—she’d never talked to a dog before. But she decided that its eyes looked cleverer than those of many humans she had met. “What’s your name, then?”

The dog gave a short woof.

Mary felt a flicker of anxiety. “Are you diseased?” There were some dogs in India that had a nasty sickness called rabies. They barked and foamed at the mouth and bit people. But this dog didn’t look like it was dangerous. “Well?”

The dog barked again.

“You see, I’ve no idea if that means yes or no,” Mary told it. “Very well. I shall start with a simpler question—are you a girl dog or a boy dog?”

The dog whined hopefully and put its head to one side.

“Oh, no,” said Mary, realizing what it wanted. “I’m saving the other slice for later. We’ll have a play first. Do you think you would like that?”

The dog’s tail wagged a little. Mary smiled. “I think you are a girl dog,” she declared. “And I shall call you . . . Jemima! Come on, Jemima. Let’s play!” Mary started to run. The dog hesitated for a moment and then raced after her.