“Ooh, it is mad!” Grace exclaimed as she got up from her place on the floor. “Better get it out of here.”
“What do you suppose I’m trying to do?” Bess helplessly asked.
Laura took command of the situation. “Now, don’t move, any of you,” she warned. “I’ve a way with cats.”
“And it doesn’t work,” Amelia rejoined, as the black ball of fury snarled at the red-headed girl.
“Well, I’ll show you, Mrs. Cat, who is boss.” Laura’s temper had been aroused. She grabbed Grace’s green suede jacket.
“Get out of here—now,” she ordered, shaking it before the animal.
The cat turned, leaped over a chair, jumped up on a bookcase, sprang to the window-sill and pushing out the already loose screen, it leaped across space to a tree outside, jumped to the ground and was disappearing around a corner just as the girls, recovering from their surprise, got to the window.
“Well, that is that.” Laura pretended to wash her hands of the whole matter. “Did I get rid of that cat, or didn’t I?”
“You did!” Bess agreed emphatically, as she slammed down the window as though to preclude the possibility of the animal’s doing a leap in reverse as she had seen swimmers do in news reels. “But will you tell me,” she asked, “what it all means?”
“Simply that someone left a door open downstairs,” answered the practical Amelia.