“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” said Don with a laugh. “I’ll fix that all right. Just you leave it to me. Now I’ll tell you what we’ll do. They feed me pretty well at this house, for they like me. They bring out nice bones and bits of meat, bread with gravy on and—”
“Oh, don’t talk about it!” spoke Blackie quickly. “It makes me hungry to hear about all those good things!”
“Well, you’ll be having some soon,” said the dog, “for they’ll be bringing out my dinner directly. I think it will be chicken to-day.”
“Oh, my! Chicken!” mewed Blackie, putting out her red tongue. “How good that sounds!”
“It will taste good, too,” said Don.
“How do you know you will have chicken?” asked the black cat.
“Well, I always have the same thing the family has for dinner,” Don said, “and I know they are going to have chicken to-day for I saw the butcher bringing some. The butcher’s boy always sets his basket down on the back stoop when he rings the bell, and I can look in it.”
“Do you ever take anything out?” asked Blackie, sort of smiling.
“I did once, when I was a little puppy,” Don said, “but I knew no better. I was whipped for it, so I never did it again. But now I’ll tell you what to do, so you will have a good dinner.”
“And will you have one too?” asked Blackie.