“No news from France yet I suppose?”
“Oh, no! it is not time.”
“Well, you’ll have to wait. There’s nothing like patience in this life. Don’t you want to come down this path with me, and see the rest of my colony of cats? This is where they live.”
“It will give me great pleasure,” said Eugene.
The sergeant turned abruptly from the road to a shady path leading to a duck-pond. Stationing himself midway in it, he gave a whistle that Eugene noticed was quite different from his call for King Boozy.
The boy stood aside; and presently he saw little gray heads peeping cautiously from between the leaves, and heard a number of timid voices giving tentative mews of welcome.
Then the Cats came fast enough, Young and Old, Gay and Sober.
“It isn’t feeding-time,” said the sergeant; “when it is they just tumble over each other to get to me,—and they’re a little afraid of you.”