The long step took the little hall in three strides.
The sight that met the newcomer's eyes was the bare room, with Eliza kneeling in front of an open basket, clasping Pluto to her breast. The woman's face and posture were dramatic.
"Deserted!" was the word that rose to Phil's lips, but he repressed it. He would not twit on facts; but his all-observing eyes shone.
"I'm always wanting to paint you, Eliza," he said. "Sometime I will, too."
"Me!" returned Eliza drearily. "You'll be hard up when you take me."
"So far as that goes, I'm hard up now. That's chronic," responded Phil cheerfully. "What are you doing—not taking leave of that king among cats? If you're leaving him behind, I speak for him."
"H'm!" exclaimed Eliza, loosening her clasp of her pet and rising. "You'd made a bad bargain if you took Pluto." She removed the basket from its chair. "Sit down, Mr. Sidney," she said wearily, resuming her own seat. "It's too forlorn for you to stay, but maybe you'd like to ketch your breath before you take the things."
Philip picked up the basket and looked curiously at its wire window.
"Yes," continued Eliza. "I'm taking Pluto, so I had to have that. It was an extravagance, and he ain't worth it. I despise to see folks cartin' cats and dogs around. I didn't think I'd ever come to it; but somehow I'm—used to that selfish critter, and he's—he's all the folks I've got. It never once came to me that you'd take him."