"Well, see here, young fellow," Barnes protested amiably, "I'm the president, so I have to have one of these cats. Emmet has one already and the Humberford Foundation really needs one, and there are only three in the country. You heard the young lady from Vega say it."
Several people and the two satyrs wandered up, attracted by the argument.
"I don't care," Phil said, greatly encouraged by the tightness with which Mitzie's hand gripped his. "I know that this is a cosmic crisis and all that, but this is my cat and I fed it and I'm going to keep it. C'mere, Lucky."
Lucky jumped out of the box into his arms.
"I guess that proves it," Phil said.
Barnes looked at him just a bit indignantly and there were all sorts of murmured comments, but just then they heard a tiny and varied mewing. It came from the box from which Lucky had sprung.
They looked in and saw five tiny duplicates of Lucky nosing their little conical faces upward.
Dytie said, "They small, but they just much good big pussycat, just much helpful."
Barnes said, spreading himself around, "Why, now there'll be one for the Army, the Navy, Dr. Opperly, myself, that goon back east who thinks he's going to be the next president...."
"Now Bobbie," Opperly suggested, "don't go giving away more kittens than you've got."