The boy had been listening in a half-hearted way; but at this question he roused himself and said, “Certainly, sir.”
The sergeant gave a long, low whistle; and presently there was a rustling heard behind them, and a prosperous-looking white cat spotted with black came, yawning and stretching himself, through the underbrush.
“Good-morning, Boozy,” said the sergeant, as the animal, with the appearance of the greatest delight, sprang on the parapet of the bridge, and purringly stretched himself out toward his friend.
“He is very jealous, is Boozy,” said the sergeant kindly, rubbing the cat’s head. “Don’t come any nearer, little miss. He don’t like to see strangers with me, and he is shy of everything now. He wouldn’t come near me for a while after the park uniform was changed from gray to blue.”
“He caresses you because you feed him,” said Eugene, with a side glance at the animal, who had stretched himself on his back, and was playfully biting and patting the sergeant’s hand.
“You don’t enter into the animal’s feelings at all,” said the sergeant benevolently. “You don’t think that there is a little heart inside that furry body—that it grew sick and sad when it was shut out from its home.”
“I do not comprehend in the least,” said Eugene in his most grown-up fashion. “A cat cannot suffer.”
“Perhaps some day you will understand,” said the sergeant kindly. “In the meantime let me tell you something that will prove to you that the cat does like me. Some months ago I was transferred to the Public Garden; and this cat, that would not come out of these bushes for a stranger, not if he was to whistle till doomsday, braved the racket of the streets, and, what was worse to him, the people, and went down there to find me.”
“The sweet little pussy!” squealed Virgie. “Mister Policeman, let me stroke him.”
“Yes; but come gently,” said the sergeant.