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"'
Oh
,
no
,
the
voices
of
the
dead
Sound
like
the
distant
torrent
's
fall
,
"'
promptly
counter-quoted
Anne
,
pointing
solemnly
to
the
box
.
A
burst
of
laughter
broke
the
tension
.
"
We
must
leave
him
here
till
morning
,
"
said
Phil
,
replacing
the
stone
.
"
He
has
n't
mewed
for
five
minutes
.
Perhaps
the
mews
we
heard
were
his
dying
groan
.
Or
perhaps
we
merely
imagined
them
,
under
the
strain
of
our
guilty
consciences
.
"
But
,
when
the
box
was
lifted
in
the
morning
,
Rusty
bounded
at
one
gay
leap
to
Anne
's
shoulder
where
he
began
to
lick
her
face
affectionately
.
Never
was
there
a
cat
more
decidedly
alive
.
"
Here
's
a
knot
hole
in
the
box
,
"
groaned
Phil
.
"
I
never
saw
it
.
That
's
why
he
did
n't
die
.
Now
,
we
've
got
to
do
it
all
over
again
.
"
"
No
,
we
have
n't
,
"
declared
Anne
suddenly
.
"
Rusty
is
n't
going
to
be
killed
again
.
He
's
my
cat
--
and
you
've
just
got
to
make
the
best
of
it
.
"
"
Oh
,
well
,
if
you
'll
settle
with
Aunt
Jimsie
and
the
Sarah-cat
,
"
said
Stella
,
with
the
air
of
one
washing
her
hands
of
the
whole
affair
.
From
that
time
Rusty
was
one
of
the
family
.
He
slept
o'nights
on
the
scrubbing
cushion
in
the
back
porch
and
lived
on
the
fat
of
the
land
.
By
the
time
Aunt
Jamesina
came
he
was
plump
and
glossy
and
tolerably
respectable
.
But
,
like
Kipling
's
cat
,
he
"
walked
by
himself
.
"
His
paw
was
against
every
cat
,
and
every
cat
's
paw
against
him
.
One
by
one
he
vanquished
the
aristocratic
felines
of
Spofford
Avenue
.
As
for
human
beings
,
he
loved
Anne
and
Anne
alone
.
Nobody
else
even
dared
stroke
him
.
An
angry
spit
and
something
that
sounded
much
like
very
improper
language
greeted
any
one
who
did
.
"
The
airs
that
cat
puts
on
are
perfectly
intolerable
,
"
declared
Stella
.
