, unlocked the pantry door,
and entered. There was a crash of crockery from the back kitchen. Emma
fled out, leaving the door unlocked. After she had picked up several
broken plates, which had unaccountably slipped from the shelves, she
returned and locked the pantry door.

William, in the darkness within, heaved a sigh of relief. He was in,
anyway; how he was going to get out he wasn't quite sure. He stood for
a few minutes in rapt admiration of his own cleverness. He'd scored
off cook! Crumbs! He'd scored off cook! So far, at any rate. The first
thing to do was to find the cream blanc-mange. He found it at last and
sat down with it on the bread-pan to consider his next step.

Suddenly he became aware of two green eyes staring at him in the
darkness. The cat was in too! Crumbs! The cat was in too! The cat,
recognising its inveterate enemy, set up a vindictive wail. William
grew cold with fright. The rotten old cat was going to give the show
away!

"Here, Pussy! Good ole Pussy!" he whispered hoarsely. "Nice ole Pussy!
Good ole Pussy!"

The cat gazed at him in surprise. This form of address from William
was unusual.

"Good ole Pussy!" went on William feverishly. "Shut up, then. Here's
some nice blanc-mange. Just have a bit. Go on, have a bit and shut
up."

He put the dish down on the larder floor before the cat, and the cat,
after a few preliminary licks, decided that it was good. William sat
watching for a bit. Then he came to the conclusion that it was no use
wasting time, and began to sample the plates around him. He ate a
whole jelly, and then took four sandwiches off each plate, and four
cakes and pasties off each plate. He had learnt wisdom since the last
party. Meanwhile, the cat licked away at the cream blanc-mange with
every evidence of satisfaction. It even began to purr, and as its
satisfaction increased so did the purr. It possessed a peculiar
penetrating purr.

"Cook!" called out Emma from the kitchen.

Cook came out of the library where she was assisting with the festoon
hanging. "What's the matter?"

"There's a funny buzzing noise in the larder."

"Well, go in and see what it is. It's probably a wasp, that's all."

Emma approached with the key, and William, clasping the blanc-mange to
his bosom, withdrew behind the door, slipping off his shoes in
readiness for action.

"Poor Puss!" said Emma, opening the door and meeting the cat's green,
unabashed gaze. "Did it get shut up in the nasty dar