“Eh? Oh, sure enough—sure enough,” acknowledged William, with a regretful glance at his treasures. “Well, we must go, we must go.”
“But I haven't seen your stratum at all,” demurred Billy to her guide, as they went down the stairway.
“Then there's something left for to-morrow,” promised Bertram; “but you must remember, I haven't got any beautiful 'Old Blues' and 'black basalts,' to say nothing of stamps and baggage tags. But I'll make you some tea—some real tea—and that's more than William has done, with all his hundred and one teapots!”
CHAPTER XI
BERTRAM HAS VISITORS
Spunk did not change his name; but that was perhaps the only thing that did not meet with some sort of change during the weeks that immediately followed Billy's arrival. Given a house, five men, and an ironbound routine of life, and it is scarcely necessary to say that the advent of a somewhat fussy elderly woman, an impulsive young girl, and a very-much-alive small cat will make some difference. As to Spunk's name—it was not Mrs. Stetson's fault that even that was left undisturbed.
Mrs. Stetson early became acquainted with Spunk. She was introduced to him, indeed, on the night of her arrival—though fortunately not at table: William had seen to it that Spunk did not appear at dinner, though to accomplish this the man had been obliged to face the amazed and grieved indignation of the kitten's mistress.
“But I don't see how any one CAN object to a nice clean little cat at the table,” Billy had remonstrated tearfully.
“I know; but—er—they do, sometimes,” William had stammered; “and this is one of the times. Aunt Hannah would never stand for it—never!”