“Mona,” I said, “think of her actions. She came into this house on my invitation, and now she has taken my chair, and is trying to wean dear Mary's affections away from me.”
Mona grunted. “Now, how do you know that? You cats are always jumping at conclusions.”
“I see her and hear her. I feel it, Mona. I can't explain to you but I just know it's true—and I hate her.”
Mona didn't say anything, and I went on. “I planned to have her come here and stay a little while, then have a good home found for her. Now, something tells me that she will never leave here.”
“Well, suppose she doesn't.”
“Mona,” I almost screamed, “suppose she doesn't! Do you imagine I could stand having that low-down cat take my place, sleep on my chair, eat from dear Mary's hand? No—I will run away before I will endure that.”
“Hush! hush!” said the big dog commandingly. “You are waking up Dolly.”
“Then don't be cruel,” I said sulkily. “I believe you are on that cat's side.”
“You are an excited kitten,” said Mona kindly. “Jealousy always wakes cats up.”
“I am dreadfully unhappy,” I replied, with tears in my eyes. “I have half a mind to run away to Mrs. Darley.”