“You must remember, little miss, that human beings have been a bit rough on Boozy,” said the sergeant with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “and he has learned some bad habits from them.”
“Does the cat live here in winter?” asked Eugene.
“Oh, yes! he doesn’t mind the change of seasons. We shovel about twenty feet of path for him, and clear the snow from the parapet so he can lie in the sun. Then I’m a little particular about his food—you haven’t seen his dining-room;” and he pointed to a sheltered nook where sheets of brown paper overspread the ground. “Come around any day at 1.30, and you’ll see King Boozy at dinner.”
“We’ll come running and jumping to see the sweet pussy,” said Virgie. “I’ll go ask Bridget not to forget me about it;” and she ran away in the direction of the nurses.
“Where are these other cats that you speak of?” asked Eugene with affected indifference.
“Oh! you’re beginning to get interested, are you,” said the sergeant. “I’ll show them to you some other day. I must go now, and find out what those fellows are doing in that boat on the pond. Good-by, Boozy;” and waving his hand to the cat, that he knew was staring at him from some secluded nook, he was about to hurry away from the lad, when he remembered something, and turned on his heel. “Before I go,” he said, “let me tell you, young boy, that I know what your grandfather does.”
“Did you presume to force inquiries,” said the lad quickly, “when I assured you that I should tell you myself?”
“No; I did not. I happened to remember that I had seen some one answering to the description of what I’d suppose your grandfather to be like in a French jeweller’s shop on Washington Street. He mends watches, doesn’t he?”
“Yes,” scarcely breathed the boy, with an agonized blush.