“No, I do NOT,” protested disgusted Anne. “The creature followed me home
from somewhere. I couldn’t get rid of him. Ugh, get down. I like decent cats
reasonably well; but I don’t like beasties of your complexion.”
Pussy, however, refused to get down. He coolly curled up in Anne’s lap and
began to purr.
“He has evidently adopted you,” laughed Priscilla.
“I won’t BE adopted,” said Anne stubbornly.
“The poor creature is starving,” said Phil pityingly. “Why, his bones are
almost coming through his skin.”
“Well, I’ll give him a square meal and then he must return to whence he
came,” said Anne resolutely.
The cat was fed and put out. In the morning he was still on the doorstep. On
the doorstep he continued to sit, bolting in whenever the door was opened. No
coolness of welcome had the least effect on him; of nobody save Anne did he
take the least notice. Out of compassion the girls fed him; but when a week had
passed they decided that something must be done. The cat’s appearance had
improved. His eye and cheek had resumed their normal appearance; he was not
quite so thin; and he had been seen washing his face.
“But for all that we can’t keep him,” said Stella. “Aunt Jimsie is coming next
week and she will bring the Sarah-cat with her. We can’t keep two cats; and if
we did this Rusty Coat would fight all the time with the Sarah-cat. He’s a fighter
by nature. He had a pitched battle last evening with the tobacco-king’s cat and
routed him, horse, foot and artillery.”
“We must get rid of him,” agreed Anne, looking darkly at the subject of their
discussion, who was purring on the hearth rug with an air of lamb-like
meekness. “But the question is—how? How can four unprotected females get rid
of a cat who won’t be got rid of?”
“We must chloroform him,” said Phil briskly. “That is the most humane way.”
“Who of us knows anything about chloroforming a cat?” demanded Anne
gloomily.
“I do, honey. It’s one of my few—sadly few—useful accomplishments. I’ve
disposed of several at home. You take the cat in the morning and give him a
good breakfast. Then you take an old burlap bag—there’s one in the back porch
—put the cat on it and turn over him a wooden box. Then take a two-ounce
bottle of chloroform, uncork it, and slip it under the edge of the box. Put a heavy
weight on top of the box and leave it till evening. The cat will be dead, curled up