Crona's white scones and butter, and the meatpies which no doubt had been in the parcel that Lotty sent by Wallace, were very delicious. But there were fried mountain-trout also, and fruit to follow. But the wine was the water from a neighbouring rill.
There was something so very unreal about all Antony's present surroundings, and one thing with another, that more than once he thought he must be dreaming, especially when Tim suddenly appeared on the table, and Lotty quietly fed him from a teaspoon.
The raven kept on saying things with that eldritch, screaming laugh. Presently it was, 'Joe, Joe, don't you!' He had hopped down to the ground, and was slyly approaching a hassock placed there for pussy, and the cat was asleep on it, but her tail hung down.
'Joe, Joe, don't you. He! he! he! Joe, go back to perch. Joe, see what you'll catch!'
He was near enough now, and gave the floating tail a most cruel pinch.
Pussy screamed. Joe only backed astern and was beginning to laugh when he received a smack on the face that made him stagger.
'You—you—you wretch!' he screamed; but he flew back to his perch and laughed now till the welkin rang.
Tim disappeared.
The cat was angrily wagging her tail, and no doubt making up her mind to pay Joe out first chance.
Tod Lowrie got up and stretched himself, and Wallace placed his great wise head on the tablecloth close to Crona's elbow. Then every pet had a tit-bit, and peace was restored once more.