She said nothing about a wire-covered box that stood in the hall, but seeing it accidentally after he had given her a good hug, “a real bear-hug,” he said:
“Oh, you’ve brought down one of my box-traps. Is it one of them? But we don’t need any box-traps here, for there’s nothing to catch.”
But Willard, by this time, had torn off the cover.... The box was opened wide at last, and oh! wonder of wonders! here was the little white cat, their beautiful Zephyr, looking up at them with questioning eyes.
The shout that went up ended suddenly with the peculiarly happy screech of an Indian warwhoop, a sound they had not heard from Edwy’s lips for many a month. Instead of jumping out of her box at once, Zephyr sat up on her cushion, and began to wash her face with her velvet paw, and when she saw Edwy, she began at once that high-toned purr, as if to show her gratitude, that after her long journey, she had found her friends. Her next act was to jump out of her box, after one look at their glad faces, and another glance from floor to ceiling and from ceiling to floor, she started on a wild chase after one of the Christmas apples, that had rolled out on the floor.
The boy and the cat now had their race of pure delight from room to room. While the grace of her motions seemed the most wonderful in the world, making all the people laugh, the rapt happy look on Edwy’s face was a greater joy. It was a marvel of expression.
Zephyr was his very own, to keep always!
THE END
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.