"Unlucky?"
"Yes, the cats always sit thirteen at table for bad luck. As there never is more than enough for twelve and as he always gets his share he brings bad luck to one of the cats every meal. Isn't that nice?"
"But isn't that hard on the extra cat?"
"Oh! no they don't mind at all—it's so good for the digestion."
"Won't you have a cup of poison before you go?"
"Poison?" said Billy, edging toward the door.
"That's my black cat-o-nine tails," said the old woman.—Page 90.
"Yes. I have some lovely poison, I brewed it myself; do have some."