The constable opened the kitchen door. “Come along, Jim,” said he.
Then he took his leave.
Overhead Minerva was preparing for the same thing.
CHAPTER VI
MISS PUSSY TRIES FLY PAPER.
IN the back hallway, up stairs, there was a long wooden chest, half full of old magazines. Behind it mice had established a home. I did not know this at the time, but was to learn it a few minutes after the constable left.
We stood in the kitchen, Ethel and I, listening to the heavy foot-falls of Minerva. She was evidently packing her trunk. Suddenly there came a mewing at the kitchen door, and I opened it for the entrance of Miss Pussy, who made a bee line for up stairs, one of her hunting grounds.
“We might hide Miss Pussy,” said I, “and then Minerva wouldn’t go.”
Minerva’s voice has a penetrating quality, and in a minute we could hear her making a confidant of Miss Pussy.
“Miss Pussy, you an’ me is go’n’ back to the lovely city. Country’s ba-ad ’nough, but livin’ with the frien’s of burglars is wuss. What you want, Miss Pussy?”