Joker coolly explained. “There ain't many cats around here. Blizzard has got to fight. If he half killed you, you'd be laid up for a week, so he fights easy. Then you soon recover, and he can go at you again.”
“Oh my!” gasped Serena who was listening to us. “I am all upset.”
“Lie down a while,” I said, “then we will go to the house.”
Slyboots stood near us never saying a word, but staring at Blizzard and his friend. At last she said to Joker, “Who is the second gray and white cat?”
“That's Rosy,” he replied, “Blizzard's wife. She always rubs him down, but never takes part in a fight. When she hears him yelling, she runs to be on the spot to help him afterward.”
“I feel faint,” murmured Serena, “I think I will go to the house.”
As our little procession formed, I happened to cast a look toward the barn. There sat another cat, watching us with a smile on his face. This must be Thummie, but he was too far off for me to see his double claws.
We all went into the house, and up-stairs. The Denvilles and the Gleasons were having dinner or supper as they call it here, in the dining-room. There was a good deal of laughing and talking, and I glanced up at the table as we went by. It was drawn up near some big windows that overlooked the meadows at the back of the house, and the lovely Purple Hills beyond. Mr. Denville and the old farmer were talking about crops, and Mrs. Denville and Mrs. Gleason and Mary were chatting about fruit and vegetables.
There were some very nice things to eat on the table. I sprang up on a chair for a minute to look, for I do love to see any one enjoying good food. They had hot coffee, and a glass pitcher of cream, and cocoa, and strawberry preserves, and plum preserves, and white cake with raisins in it, and layer cake with jam in it, and boiled eggs, and cold ham, and hot rolls, and cheese and crullers.
“That's a good enough supper for any one,” remarked Joker proudly, and I agreed with him.