cat when he saw one, after all, if Flannery was going to have a
veterinary come to look at it. But the cat certainly _looked_
dead--extremely dead.

Doc Pomeroy was a tall, lank man with a slouch in his shoulders and a
sad, hollow-chested voice. His voice was the deepest and mournfullest
bass. "The boy says you want me to look at a cat," he said in his
hopeless tone. "Where's the cat?"

Flannery walked to the box and stood over it, and Doc Pomeroy stood at
the other side. He did not even bend down to look at the cat.

"That cat's dead," he said without emotion.

"Av course it is," said Flannery. "'Twas dead th' firrst time I seen
it."

"The boy said you wanted me to look at a cat," said Doc Pomeroy.

"Sure!" said Flannery. "Sure I did! That's th' cat. I wanted ye t' see
th' cat. What might be yer opinion av it?"

"What do you want me to do with the cat?" asked Doc Pomeroy.

"Look at it," said Flannery pleasantly. "Nawthin' but look at it. Thim
is me orders. 'Have a veterinary look at th' cat,' is what they says.
An' I can see be th' look on ye that 'tis yer opinion 'tis a mighty dead
cat."

"That cat," said the veterinary slowly, "is as dead as it can be. A cat
can't be any deader than that one is."

"It cannot," said Flannery positively. "But it can be longer dead."

"If I had a cat that had been dead longer than that cat has been dead,"
said Doc Pomeroy as he moved away, "I wouldn't have to see it to know
that it was dead. A cat that has been dead longer than that cat has been
dead lets you know it. That cat will let you know it pretty quick, now."

"Thank ye," said Flannery. "An' ye have had a good look at it? Ye w'u'dn't
like t' look at it again, mebby? Thim is me orders, t'allow
ixamination be th' veterinary, an' if 't w'u'd be anny comfort t' ye I
will draw up a chair so ye can look all ye want to."

The veterinary raised his sad eyes to Flannery's face and let them rest
there a moment. "Much obliged," he said, but he did not look at the cat
again. He went back to his headquarters.

That afternoon Flannery and Timmy began walking quickly when they passed
the box, and toward evening, when Flannery had to make out his reports,
he went out on the back porch and wrote them, using a chair-seat for a
desk. One of his tasks was to write a letter to the New York office.

"W.B. 23645," he wrote, "the vetinnary has seen the cat, and its
diseased all right. he says so. no sine of Mrs. Warman yet but ile ke