Thursday’s Jigsaw Puzzle

On a slightly misty morning, the traveler found herself outside a cottage near the tracks.
The only way there was by a rugged footpath, or by train.
Still, she had to stop here. With any luck, the long, hard trip would pay off handsomely.
Working her way up the path, she cautiously approached the cottage.
A puzzled expression crossed her face when she realized…
(Continued below the puzzles.)

Easy   Medium   Hard   Tough  

CC Image courtesy of Brian Negus on Flickr

(Continued from above.)
the sign she was expecting to see wasn’t posted anywhere! Had she chosen the wrong place to leave the train?
Her heart started to beat a little faster as she cautiously approached the door. It looked as if no one was at home.
As her hand reached for the doorknocker, the door suddenly sprang open and she took a quick step backwards, startled.
A little boy peeked around the door, his head tilted slightly to one side as he looked at her.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she asked, “Is this the Haverson’s house?”
The little boy’s eyes swept her from head to toes, as if sizing her up for a raincoat, or even a coffin.
After a few moments, he looked her right in the eyes and asked, “Are you a spy?”
“No no,” she stammered. “I’m looking for the lady that makes the quilts.”
“Too bad,” he replied. “I like spies.”
As she started to turn away, a woman’s voice rang out from deep inside the cottage. “I make quilts! Pillows too!”
Turning back, the traveler spoke in a louder voice to the unseen woman in the cottage. “I would like to buy one of your quilts,” she said.
“Then come in,” the woman’s voice beckoned.
Placing one hand inside her raincoat pocket where she kept her gun, she cautiously stepped past the little boy, only to realize too late that he was holding something in his hand.
“A gun!” she thought as she jumped to one side and lashed out at him.
Her kick missed him by inches when she felt the cold liquid splashing her face.
The boy was holding a squirt gun!
Staring at him, she felt the woman step out of the darkness.
“Ah,” the woman said. “You want Haverson the spy. I’m Harrison the seamstress. Haverson lives two houses down the tracks. Would you like to buy a quilt to take with you? Mine are so much better than Haverson’s are, and there aren’t any codes or guns hidden in mine so they are completely safe.”
“And that,” said the traveler to her husband, “is how I ended up buying all these quilts and pillows for our house.”