“‘I sha’n’t open the door,’ declared the cat with great composure,” said Polly, feeling very glad she had slipped over the big word so well; “‘so there!’ and she lashed her tail stiffer than ever around her legs.
“The old Tea-Kettle cried and whimpered and begged, but it was no use. The cat sat up like a wooden cat, and just stared at her. At last the Tea-Kettle rolled over on her side, and laid her long turned-up nose on the floor.
“‘I’m afraid she’s dead,’ said the cat to herself. ‘And’”—
“And was she dead?” asked little Davie; “was she, Polly?”
“You’ll see,” she cried, “pretty soon. Well, so the cat was so awfully afraid the poor old Tea-Kettle was dead, that she stepped down from the table, and went and bent over and looked at her. And no sooner had she touched her with her paw to feel and be sure about it, than the old Tea-Kettle hopped up as quick as a wink; and the cat flew back, and then she had to run, oh, so dreadfully fast! because the Tea-Kettle began to roll at her. And round and round the room they went, and the Tea-Kettle kept always between the table and the cat, so she couldn’t jump on that; and she couldn’t hop on the stove because it was hot; so she had to open the door. And before she could shut it, there was the Tea-Kettle close behind her!”
“And did she get away?” cried Joel; “clear off to see the world?”
“Yes,” said Polly; “and she never came back. She screamed out as she rolled down the long hill before the cottage door, ‘Goo-d—by—o-old—o-o-ld—cat.’”
“Oh, dear, dear!” said both boys. And “Go-o-d—by—ol-d—cat,” sang Phronsie.
“And did she ever come—oh, see—see!” screamed Joel looking up, and nearly upsetting David as he jumped clear past him, “blue sky—see—come on, Dave, out-doors!”