Zee flung herself into a big chair and rocked and screamed with laughter. "Oh, Treasure, we are even with the Curious Cat at last." Then wiping her eyes, and between bursts of laughter, she explained. "He began talking in that sarcastic smart little way he has, and he said, 'Say, Miss Zee, the next time I find that red car of yours stuck in front of my house I am going to take it as a gift from Heaven, and keep it. But this time, just to be friendly and keep you out of a scrape, I drove it home for you and left it in your garage. I suppose you were playing hooky, and got stuck. Did I save you? I shall never do it again.'"
How they all laughed, even Doris, and how heartily she ate of the luncheon Rosalie had prepared, and what a splendid joke it was— Only Doris did wish she had just remained in the car instead of strolling up the creek—he was such a funny Curious Cat—maybe—Oh, then he did own the Haunted House, after all!
"He was teasing you girls again," she cried. "The Crab and the Courteous Coon must be his servants, for he said you left the car in front of his house."
Then the girls were freshly indignant—pretending he was getting tea from the Crab, when it was his own tea, and he could give it away if he wished! But it was funny anyhow, and now he was a more Curious Cat than ever.
That afternoon, when the girls had gone to school, deciding that Doris could safely be left alone now—and when father had gone calling, Doris hurried up-stairs and arranged her hair in most enticing little curls around her forehead, and put on her very daintiest, bluest, floweriest dress—because he was in honor bound to call her up and make apology. Oh, of course, he would not see the enticing curls, and the dainty blue flowery dress—but it was a great moral support to know that she looked irreproachable, even when none was there to see. And she wanted to be very clever and interesting over the telephone—because—he really had done a very disagreeable thing, and she wanted to make him sorry.
And then he did not telephone at all. He came himself—in person—and Doris knew some kindly angel had been guiding her actions that day. When she heard the ring she went to the door so lightly, so unconcernedly, sure it was something trivial and some one unimportant. And there he stood, smiling at her, regret in his eyes.
"I brought my apology with me. May I come in and deliver it?"
"Yes, please do. I know where you live, and that is a beginning, isn't it?"
"How did you learn that?"