It was such a funny procession I saw in the mirror as we went up-stairs. First I, a little cat with a black and white face, then a big dog, then a big man.
I went right to Mary's bedroom. Mona walked in with me. Mr. Denville stood in the doorway.
The Common cat lay on the opera cloak with a white bandage over her face. She was giving herself great airs on account of that bandage, but I think she was a little frightened when she heard Mona. However, you can't tell much from her mud-colored eyes when she doesn't want you to.
Mona slowly paced across the room, slowly took the Common cat by the neck, slowly carried her to the door, and set her outside in the hall.
Mr. Denville stood aside to let Mona pass. Then he smiled in a peculiar way. The Common cat gazed about her through the holes cut in the bandage for her eyes, as if uncertain what to do, then she walked toward a nice, sunny window that there was in the hall. Across it was a big sofa with cushions, near by was a bookcase. The cat went under the sofa, and Mona looked well pleased. The Common cat might sleep there. She was not to go in the bedroom.
What a happy cat I was! I gave Mona a grateful glance, then I went and sprang on my chair.
Mr. Denville laughed aloud, and calling to Mona, went down-stairs.
Later in the day I saw her, and she said Mr. Denville took her right to the pantry. He saw a big roasted chicken there on a platter, and seizing the chicken by the legs he gave it to her. Mona said that she passed the cook in the lower hall, and her face was something indescribable, but, of course, she didn't dare to say a word, as Mr. Denville was escorting the good old dog.
All day I have been so happy. The Common cat has not dared to once come in the bedroom. Little Mary understands the matter. At lunch time there was a great laughing at the table. I heard an echo of it up here, and dragged myself to the head of the stairs to listen. Mr. Denville was telling his wife and Mary about Mona and the Common cat.
When Mary came up-stairs, she made a nice bed on the hall sofa for “Slyboots,” as her father calls the Common cat. There she has been all day, and Mary pets me in here, and then goes out in the hall and pets her. I think this is a very nice arrangement. Divided, we agree, united, we fight. Perhaps in time, Slyboots will get to like me better. I have no feeling of resentment against her. I only want her to keep out of my way.