The father answered, smiling as he frowned:
“Now, if ’twere told by some strange traveller,
I’d say, ‘Too much you tax our faith, good sir.’
But truth was ever priceless unto me.
Those mourners, clad in somber coats of fur,
Were cats—no more, nor less! This I did see,
And that the dead grimalkin was of high degree.”
IX
Up, up the chimney go the sparks apace;
Up, up, to vanish in the gusty sky.