“Not as yet,” said the sergeant cheerfully. “Of course we never know how folks may turn out.”
“No; one never does,” said Eugene with a sigh.
“Generally speaking, we turn out as we begin,” said the man. “There’s a fine opening for a sermon, my boy, only I’m not good at preaching. You’ll have to draw your own conclusions.”
Eugene gave him a long and scrutinizing look; then he said, with a compassionate glance at King Boozy who was mewing coaxingly about the bags, “Suppose we proceed.”
“All right, my boy;” and the sergeant walked nimbly on until they reached the cats’ dining-room under the shrubbery, where he spread on the ground a sheet of brown paper, and emptied on it a medley of chicken and beef bones. Then drawing a tin can from among the leaves, he filled it with milk from a bottle in his pocket.
The Two Cats crouched beside Their Festal Board.
King Boozy mewed to his chum Squirrel; and the two cats crouched down beside their festal board, and daintily proceeded to eat up everything.
“Do you do this every day?” asked Eugene.