Two green eyes blazed at him from the darkness and a vigorous spitting warned him away.
"Please just let him sulk a little while," said Eliza hastily. Supposing Pluto should inaugurate their visit by scratching the host! Awful thought! "He's a real good cat in his way," she added.
"Well, I'm certainly not invited under the lounge," said Mr. Wright, straightening up.
"I didn't know anybody to give him to," went on Eliza, still apologetic. "Mr. Sidney said he would have taken him if he'd known."
"Mr. Sidney. That's Mrs. Ballard's young artist, isn't it?" asked Mrs. Wright, who was boiling a kettle over an alcohol lamp at a tea-table in the corner of the room.
"Yes—we spent our last day with him in his stable."
"His what, Eliza?"
"His stable. He's found one for a studio in a real stylish place up in Gramercy Park where the folks have gone to Europe. He's as tickled as if he owned the whole big house."
"I'm glad he's found a place to suit him. You like him very much, don't you, Eliza?"
"He couldn't be any better," said Eliza simply. "We'd 'a' had a real nice visit only the Fabian children came in, Edgar and Kathleen."