"Does he come?" inquired the girl, peering wistfully through the railing.
"He does not," said Brown. "Perhaps you had better call."
"Here, puss--puss--puss--puss!" she began gently in that fascinating, crystalline voice which seemed to set tiny silvery chimes ringing in Brown's ears: "Here, Clarence, darling--Betty's own little kitty-cat!"
"If he doesn't come to that," thought Brown, "he is a brute." And aloud: "If you could only let him see you; he sits there blinking at me."
"Do you think he'd come if he saw me?"
"Who wouldn't?" thought Brown, and answered, calmly: "I think so.... Of course, you couldn't get up here."
"I could.... But I'd better not.... Besides, I live only a few houses away--Number 161--and I could go through into the back yard."
"But you'd better not attempt to climb the fence. Have one of the servants do it; we'll get the cat between us then and corner him."
"There are no servants in the house. It's closed for the summer--all boarded up!"
"Then how can you get in?"