“Oh, I dassen't,” said the poor cat in a terrified way.
I silently watched her eat the biscuit, then I shook the rain drops off myself, and started for the house.
Alas! the door was shut, and kept shut. I crouched close up to it, and mewed as loudly as I could, for, to my grief, I could hear Mary and the servants inside calling, “Pussy! Pussy!”
They did this at intervals for an hour or two.
Then I heard Mr. Denville's deep voice by the hall door. “Tell the child to go to bed. Her cat is coiled up somewhere asleep, and does not want to be disturbed. She will appear in the morning.”
“Oh, papa!” I heard in a well-known, tearful voice, and I knew that little Mary was calling to him over the stair railing, “my kitty wouldn't stay away from me, if she heard me call. Something has happened to her.”
“Perhaps she has been stolen,” said Mrs. Denville to her husband.
“Oh! why don't they open the door,” I thought to myself. “How stupid they are!”
By this time I was very uncomfortable. My long hair was dripping with rain drops, and I was shivering with cold.
Just when my need was sorest, I heard to my delight a command in the familiar deep voice, “Open the door, Anthony, and look outside.”