CHAPTER XIII
THE LADY GAY CAT
Just here something extraordinary happened, and I must say in connection with it, that I have marvellous luck in remeeting persons and animals.
My master suddenly exclaimed, “I am frightfully thirsty, Boy. Let us stop at this nice little cottage, and see if that old lady in the window will give me a drink.”
Master drew up the car by the side of the road, got out, and I jumped after him, and whom do you think I saw rolling on a bed of cat-nip under the kitchen window—my acquaintance of a night some time ago—the Lady Gay cat.
She knew me at once, and with a surprised purr sprang toward me. “How do you do, dog, I am glad to see you. I believe you saved my life by getting me to stop stuffing myself. It was my only pleasure in that dreadful place, and it cost some effort to give it up.”
“Do tell me about yourself,” I begged her, “and hurry up. Master won’t wait long, I’m sure.”
She smiled the smile of superior knowledge. “Yes, he will, when Granny gets talking to him. She’s the most crackajack old woman you ever saw.”