William peeped in at the window and enjoyed the diverting spectacle of Miss Felicia Courtnay standing on a chair holding up her skirts and screaming, and of Mr. Evelyn Courtnay on his knees with the poker in one hand, trying to reach the mouse who had taken refuge beneath a very low sofa. It was at that moment that William took Terence from the basket and deposited him upon the floor. Now Terence, William’s cat, though he disliked William intensely, was of a sociable disposition. He found himself in a strange room with a fire upon the hearth. He liked fires. He did not like the basket in which he had just made his journey with William. He did not wish to go in the basket again. He wished to stay in the room. He decided that the best policy was to make up to the occupants of the room in the hopes that they would allow him to sit on the hearthrug in front of the fire. He approached the only occupant he could see. Terence may have known that there was a mouse in the room or he may not. He was not interested. He was a lover of comfort only. He was no mouser.
MR. EVELYN COURTNAY SPRANG UP WITH A YELL AND
LEAPT UPON THE GRAND PIANO. “THE BRUTE TOUCHED
ME!” HE SHOUTED.
Mr. Evelyn Courtnay, who was now lying at full length on the floor trying to look beneath the low sofa, felt suddenly something soft and warm and furry and purring rub itself hard against his face. He sprang up with a yell and leapt upon the grand piano.
“The brute!” he screamed. “The brute! It touched me.”
The episode seemed to have driven him into a state closely bordering on lunacy.
William’s cat purred ingratiatingly at the foot of the grand piano.
“Catch the mouse!” screamed Miss Felicia Courtnay. “Get down and catch the mouse!”
“I can’t while that brute’s in the room,” screamed Mr. Evelyn Courtnay from the grand piano. “I can’t—I tell you. I can’t bear ’em. It touched me!”
“You coward! I’m going to faint in a minute.”