Before Veve could tell her not to, she picked up the cat and placed him on the bucket. Lazy Tom was so comfortable he curled into a round ball and closed his eyes as if he were asleep.
“Oh, say, he’s no good,” cried Veve in disgust. “He’s too tame. Tell you what, Connie. You be the lion.”
Connie was quite certain she did not care to be a lion. However, her friend coaxed so hard that finally she consented.
“Get down on your hands and knees,” ordered Veve. “When I say, ‘Up King of Beasts,’ you’re to put your front paws—I mean your hands—on the bucket. Then move your head from side to side and roar.”
“But I can’t do that, Veve. Lazy Tom is asleep on the bucket.”
“I’ll chase him off.”
“Then he might run away,” protested Connie. “You know we promised Mrs. Moseley to take good care of him.”
“Well, I can’t be bothered taking him home now,” said Veve. “I know where I can keep him safe.”
Gathering up the drowsy cat, she carried him into her own house. Carefully she laid him on the tufted spread of her bed.
“There Tom,” she said, stroking his fur, “isn’t that better than sleeping on a hard bucket?”