She looked up and about her, but there was no one in sight.

Then she picked up the object which had struck her.

It was a cranberry, withered and softened by the winter frosts.
She looked at the cranberry, then at the open door, and her eyes twinkled.

Running quickly to the threshold she peered out.

The back yard was, apparently, empty, save for a few hens belonging to near neighbors, and these had stopped scratching for a living and were huddled near the fence.
"Hum!" she mused.