By this time the little girl was dancing around the room, as if she were practising for a ballet performance. Grandma, mamma and Aunt Sarah appeared in the door-way, and grandpa peeped in, too.
“What’s going on here?” asked he.
“O, I never!” said Lulu, hugging first one and then the other. “I know all ’bout it, auntie. You did it, an’ I think he’s lovely, an’ what’s his name, an’ he’s mine for always, ain’t he?”
“His name is Dick,” said auntie.
“Dickon Gray,” suggested mamma, “and I hope that Pussy will not eat him.”
“We must watch him,” said grandma.
And they did, very carefully at first. But surely, that squirrel and cat were predestined friends; for they would frolic and play together like two kittens.
And when puss was in extra good humor she would treat Dickon to a ride on her back.
“Arrah,” said Robert, the hired man, “an’ did ye iver say the loike o’ that, now? It bates the li-in an’ the lamb, I’m thinkin’.”
Yes, and puss evidently had much respect for Dick’s judgment; because, upon her return from market she often brought a tender mouse-steak for his inspection.