"Are you going home, William?" he asked.
"Yes," said William ungraciously.
"Would you mind taking this to your sister? It's a present I am giving her for Christmas. Don't open the lid. It's a very valuable white cat."
William took it. Something was moving about inside.
"It's in a highly nervous state," went on the donor; "I shouldn't look at it if I were you."
"All right," said William, coldly.
William walked on down the road. His smile had gone. He no longer thought about Christmas. He swung the basket carelessly as he walked. An infuriated scratching and snarling came from inside. William swung it still more carelessly.
"I'm not a cat-carrier," he muttered, indignantly. "Makin' me into a cat-carrier for him!"
He sighted Ginger, his ever faithful friend and ally, in the distance, and hailed him with a piercing whistle. Ginger came to him.
"What d'you think's in here?" queried William.