“What about the other five cats?” I demanded.
Alexander Abraham sighed.
“I suppose they’ll have to come too,” he sighed, “though no doubt they’ll chase poor Mr. Riley clean off the premises. But I can live without him, and I can’t without you. How soon can you be ready to marry me?”
“I haven’t said that I was going to marry you at all, have I?” I said tartly, just to be consistent. For I wasn’t feeling tart.
“No, but you will, won’t you?” said Alexander Abraham anxiously. “Because if you won’t, I wish you’d let me die of the smallpox. Do, dear Angelina.”
To think that a man should dare to call me his “dear Angelina!” And to think that I shouldn’t mind!
“Where I go, William Adolphus goes,” I said, “but I shall give away the other five cats for—for the sake of Mr. Riley.”
IX. Pa Sloane’s Purchase
“I guess the molasses is getting low, ain’t it?” said Pa Sloane insinuatingly. “S’pose I’d better drive up to Carmody this afternoon and get some more.”