“Oh, very well!” I returned, “just as you wish. Of course I have taken one cat there already. I suppose there is a limit—”
She pretended not to hear me, and walked slowly toward the doorway. When we got there, my mother stood in it. She gave Serena a dreadful look, then she put her paws round her neck.
“Oh, get away, mother,” said Serena peevishly pushing her aside. “You have never understood me.”
I went close up to my dear mother. I rubbed against her, I licked her sad face, then I said to Serena, “You go on—I am going to stay at home.”
“Do you suppose I will go to the Denvilles' without you?” she said angrily. “Come on, this very instant!” and she bit me on the neck.
“Go,” purred my mother softly, then she turned her head away, and closed her eyes. The parting was too bitter for her.
We had all been so used to Serena's domination, that I stupidly followed her. When we got to the hall door I paused. “Serena,” I said, “I must wait till little Mary comes for me.”
“Goose,” she replied, “and how am I to get to Beacon Street?”
“Perhaps they will take you.”
“That would be very likely,” she said ironically, then she just screamed for Gerty to come and open the hall door.