"Buff—carrying his coat and the rain pouring! Of all the abandoned youths!"
Buff dashed into the house, threw his overcoat into one corner, his cap into another, and violently assaulted the study door, kicking it when it failed to open at the first attempt.
"Boy, what are you about?" asked his father, as Buff fell on his knees before the chair on which lay, comfortably asleep, the little rescued kitten.
CHAPTER IV
"Sir Toby Belch. Does not our life consist of four elements?
Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Faith, so they say, but I think it rather consists of eating and drinking."
Twelfth Night.
"Poo-or pussy!" murmured Buff, laying his head beside his treasure on the cushion.
"Get up, boy," said Mr. Seton. "You carry kindness to animals too far."
"And he doesn't carry tidiness any way at all," said Elizabeth, who had followed Buff into the study. "He has strewed his garments all over the place in the most shocking way. Come along, Buff, and pick them up.... Father, tell him to come."
"Do as your sister says, Buff."
But Buff clung limpet-like to the chair and expostulated. "What's the good of putting things tidy when I'm putting them on again in a minute?"