Miss Dimple and the Slightly Bewildered Angel by Mignon F. Ballard Page A

was on the decorations when she parked her car that morning in her usual spot behind the cabin. A large jack-o-lantern for the mantel, she thought, and of course black and orange streamers crisscrossing from the rafters. As president of the Woman’s Club, bossy Emmaline Brumlow would want to run things her way, but Virginia had learned that as long as she allowed Emmaline to think she was in charge, she could pretty much do whatever she pleased.
    A heavy frost had covered the ground when she collected her milk from the doorstep that morning, and there was still a nip in the air. Although the cabin had another source of heat, a wood fire would be welcome this morning, Virginia thought, and was glad she’d remembered to have firewood delivered. Digging in her purse for the key, she shivered as she hurried to unlock the front door.
    Now who had broken those branches from the nandina bush under that small side window? Virginia stopped and inspected the crushed twigs and foliage, the bright berries scattered on the ground. What a thoughtless thing to do! She was planning to use those berries over the fireplace with fresh greenery during the Christmas season.
    And then Virginia saw something that made her turn around and hurry back to her car. The glass in the window was broken!
    *   *   *
    â€œNow, Miss V., I want you to promise you’ll stay in the car until I see if there’s anybody inside,” Sergeant Nelson instructed her after following Virginia back to the cabin. “You did the smart thing by not going in, and coming for me, and I’m almost sure whoever broke in is long gone by now, but we don’t want to take any chances.”
    â€œBut, Warren, I have to see what they’ve done! And Cattus is in there! What if they’ve done something to our cat?” Virginia disliked women who cried at the drop of a hat, but it was taking every bit of her willpower to hold back the tears. She could feel the sneaky little things stinging her nose, just waiting for a chance to explode. She sniffed. “I thought you all were keeping an eye on this place after what’s been going on here,” she said, but he was already making his way to the front door.
    It took even more willpower to remain behind while Warren entered the building, and Virginia hurried to meet him as soon as he emerged.
    â€œDid you see Cattus? Is he all right?” she asked.
    â€œWell, it’s a mess in there, but I didn’t see any sign of a cat. Now, don’t worry. He’s probably hiding somewhere.” With a hand on each of her shoulders, Warren blocked her way. “I don’t think there’s any big damage done, but they’ve … well … whoever did this has just thrown books everywhere.”
    Warren was a large man and strong, and it was a good thing. With one arm, he encircled this bewildered and irate woman, this guardian of the town’s precious books, and guided her onto the porch and into a rocking chair.
    â€œNow, I telephoned Chief Tinsley and he’s on his way, so let’s just sit tight until he gets here, ma’am. Is there anybody you’d like me to call?”
    Virginia glared up at him. At least she meant to glare, but with little experience in that area, who was to know? She wanted Dimple, but Dimple was at school, and it would take an act of God to force her to leave. “I guess we could call Phoebe,” she said at last. Phoebe had a level head and a kind heart, and Virginia needed both.
    Virginia held back the tears until he went inside to phone, and Bobby Tinsley found her there on the porch, scrambling in her purse for a handkerchief, when he arrived a few minutes later. Fortunately, his wife had provided him with one freshly laundered and folded into a neat square, which he passed along to Virginia.
    She accepted it gratefully but not silently. “There’s no telling what’s happened to poor Cattus! You were