At last the ’bus stopped at the cross-road and they all got out. William’s relief was indescribable. That was over. And it was the last time he’d ever change their ole cats for ’em. He turned to go down the road, but Miss Amelia Blake put her hand on his arm.
“I’ll hold it very carefully, William,” she pleaded. “I won’t let anything tumble out, but I do want to see if the fastenings of these baskets are secure.”
Miss Cliff stood by smiling with interested curiosity. William mutely abandoned himself to Fate. Miss Amelia Blake opened one fastening, the flap turned back, and a black-whiskered head arose and looked around with a purr.
“Luky!”
“Twinkie!”
“He’s mine.”
“I bought him at Mr. Gorton’s.”
“How can you say he’s yours?”
“He’s mine,” cried Miss Cliff.
“He isn’t,” retorted Miss Blake.