The Candle and The Cat
CHAPTER I
CARO AND TROLLEY
At the entrance to the driveway leading to the residence occupied by the President of the Theological Seminary were two flat-topped stone pillars, and upon one of these on a certain bright September day, Trolley sat sunning himself.
His handsome coat, shading from a delicate fawn color to darkest brown, glistened like satin; his paws were tucked comfortably away beneath him, his long tail hung down behind, and his golden eyes were almost closed; only the occasional movement of his small aristocratic ears showed him to be awake.
When Caro came dancing down from the house he turned his head for a moment and watched her sleepily till she was safely on top of the other pillar, where she seated herself Turk-fashion, her blue ruffles spread out carefully, for Aunt Charlotte had cautioned her not to rumple them. Caro had also been told not to go out without her hat, so it dangled by its elastic from her arm, while the sun shone down without hindrance upon the fair little face with its smiling blue eyes, and its crown of short brown curls.
“Trolley,” she announced presently, “here comes the Professor of something that begins with ‘Ex,’—I never can remember, it is such a funny word. It sounds like the book in the Bible where the Commandments are.”
Dr. Wells, the dignified Professor of New Testament Exegesis unbent a little at sight of the novel ornaments on the president’s gateposts. “Why Miss Caro, you must have wings!” he said, smiling up at her.
“Why no, I haven’t; and neither has Trolley. He just jumps, but I have to climb. You see that ledge there?—and this place—?”
“Yes, my dear, that will do. Aren’t you afraid you will fall?” the professor exclaimed uneasily, as Caro leaned over to point out her way of ascent. “I really think you had better get down.”
“But it is very nice up here; you can see so much,” the little girl assured him serenely, and Dr. Wells went his way wondering if he ought not to go up to the house and tell someone of her dangerous position.