“He was a real little cat Moses, wasn’t he? And you--you must be Pharaoh’s son instead of daughter.” The child laughed and clapped her hands.
Meantime Jerusalem Crickets, escaped from Billy’s arm and eye, was sneaking about for prey; and a clinking sound from the pantry warned them that she had found it.
“Run, Billy! You left the door open--she’ll get the dinner!” Mrs. Bennett cautioned, hurrying out herself to reckon the loss.
“It’s only a chop left from yesterday,” he excused on his return.
“It might have been to-day’s roast,” Edith protested, as she took the snarling Geewhillikins from his feast. “You see why Billy’s cats don’t come in the house, May Nell.”
“Did you forget their breakfast, Billy?” the child questioned earnestly.
“No, Billy never forgets his cats,” his sister answered for him; “though the chickens might sometimes suffer but for mamma. Take your ill-bred felines out, Billy.”
He obeyed, talking whimsically to his pets as he went.
“Flash and Tom wouldn’t touch meat left on the table alone with them for a day,” Edith said as she replenished the plate, shook and folded away the paper, and called her cats.
They walked up as before, and ate slowly, piece by piece, neither touching a morsel on the opposite side of the division line. Sir Thomas finished first, and looked on while Flash minced more daintily. He did not eat all, but walked off to the plush-cushioned chair they claimed as their own. Sir Thomas watched him curl up and rest his nose on his white forepaws, then quickly finished the rest of the meat and joined him. And now such a toilet began. Each groomed the other; yet, as always, Tom tired first while Flash worked on till they both shone like silk, when he put his long arms about Tom, nestled his head close down, and both slept.
The little girl forgot herself in watching them, till Billy came in, smart and almost handsome in his best suit.
“Are your going to church?” she asked, disappointment drawing her lips to a tremulous curve.
“Sunday School, too? How long you’ll be away!”
Billy made no reply. He wondered if he ought to stay at home.
“Do you like it, Sunday School, I mean? I don’t. I like church, though,--the great booming organ, the beautiful singing. And when the minister speaks I just float away into fairy-land and never come back till he says, ‘The-Lord-make-his-face-to-shine-upon-us-amen.’”