“Granny says it’s a dream now, with bright yellow and red and purple flowers on the wall, and a fine mirror, and lots of water and towels, and there’s a big crowd all the time.”
“And the money?” I went on.
“Granny’s getting it all back—ten dollars a week, and the woman loves her like a daughter. Granny never had a girl, just boys.”
I pushed my inquiries a little further, “And how does the woman treat you?”
“Like a Christian. She says, ‘No one need ever say nothin’ agin’ black cats to me. There’s more in animals than most folks reckon.’”
“Good-bye,” I said running after my master who had shaken hands with the old woman, and was jumping into the machine. “That’s a fine story. I’m mighty glad you had a safe exit from your troubles.”
“Call again,” said the cat to me, and “Call again,” called Granny to master, as we sped away.
The next interesting thing that happened to me was the home-coming of the baby. My! my! what a fuss—the apartment refurnished, renovated, fumigated, aired and reaired. Master, whistling as cheerfully as a school-boy, gave up his lovely front room and bath to his little pickaninny.
“You and I won’t mind the view of the backs of apartment-houses, will we, Boy?” he said to me.