Spot didn't say a word. For the moment he didn't move any more than the iron dog did, that stood in a yard on the outskirts of the village and never so much as wagged his tail from one year's end to another.
Somehow Spot's queer behavior gave Miss Kitty Cat an odd, creepy feeling along her back. Her fur rose on end. She glared at Spot and spat at him in a most unladylike fashion.
Spot found it very hard to stand still and never let out a single yelp. Once he almost whined. But he managed to stifle the sound.
"If she swells up much more she's likely to burst," he thought.
"Go away!" Miss Kitty scolded. "Don't you know better than to stare at a lady?"
Never an answer did old Spot make.
It was a little more than Miss Kitty Cat could endure. With a yowl that had in it something of anger and something of fear, too, she jumped off the doorstep where she had been sitting and whisked around the corner of the house.
With Miss Kitty's first leap Spot came suddenly to life. He barked joyfully and followed her. Miss Kitty Cat ran up a tree in the yard and stayed there until Spot went off chuckling.
"I'm glad I played that trick on her," he said to himself. "It seems to bother her more than anything else I've ever tried."
Thereafter Spot often pointed at Miss Kitty when he met her, either inside the house or about the yard. And she never failed to fly into a passion.