The stately animal had stopped washing her face and
was looking at him curiously. She met his onslaught
with one contemptuous sweep of her capable paw.
Rusty went rolling helplessly over on the rug; he picked
himself up dazedly. What sort of a cat was this
who had boxed his ears? He looked dubiously at
the Sarah-cat. Would he or would he not?
The Sarah-cat deliberately turned her back on him
and resumed her toilet operations. Rusty decided
that he would not. He never did. From that
time on the Sarah-cat ruled the roost. Rusty never
again interfered with her.
But Joseph rashly sat up and yawned. Rusty, burning
to avenge his disgrace, swooped down upon him.
Joseph, pacific by nature, could fight upon occasion
and fight well. The result was a series of drawn
battles. Every day Rusty and Joseph fought at
sight. Anne took Rusty’s part and detested
Joseph. Stella was in despair. But Aunt Jamesina
only laughed.
“Let them fight it out,” she said tolerantly.
“They’ll make friends after a bit.
Joseph needs some exercise—he was getting
too fat. And Rusty has to learn he isn’t
the only cat in the world.”
Eventually Joseph and Rusty accepted the situation
and from sworn enemies became sworn friends.
They slept on the same cushion with their paws about
each other, and gravely washed each other’s faces.
“We’ve all got used to each other,”
said Phil. “And I’ve learned how to
wash dishes and sweep a floor.”
“But you needn’t try to make us believe
you can chloroform a cat,” laughed Anne.
“It was all the fault of the knothole,”
protested Phil.
“It was a good thing the knothole was there,”
said Aunt Jamesina rather severely. “Kittens
have to be drowned, I admit, or the world would
be overrun. But no decent, grown-up cat should
be done to death—unless he sucks eggs.”
“You wouldn’t have thought Rusty very
decent if you’d seen him when he came here,”
said Stella. “He positively looked like
the Old Nick.”
“I don’t believe Old Nick can be so very,
ugly” said Aunt Jamesina reflectively.
“He wouldn’t do so much harm if he was.
I always think of him as a rather handsome
gentleman.”
A Letter from Davy
“It’s beginning to snow, girls,”
said Phil, coming in one November evening, “and
there are the loveliest little stars and crosses all
over the garden walk. I never noticed before
what exquisite things snowflakes really are.
One has time to notice things like that in the simple
life. Bless you all for permitting me to live
it. It’s really delightful to feel worried
because butter has gone up five cents a pound.”
“Has it?” demanded Stella, who kept the
household accounts.
“It has—and here’s your butter.
I’m getting quite expert at marketing.
It’s better fun than flirting,” concluded
Phil gravely.
