age. She was wearing
a sky blue gingham dress, her eyes were shining frightfully, and her
cheeks were very pink.

At the sight of her, all conversation died away.

The butler approaching her, attempted to draw her aside, murmuring
something to which she paid no attention.

"No," she said aloud, pulling her arm away from his restraining hand, "I
will not go away and leave it to you. I will not stay in any house where
dumb animals are ill-treated, least of all, my own dear cat."

It is, as most of us know to our cost, easier to be pompous than
dignified when one feels oneself in the wrong.

"Pooh," said Tucker, "your cat was not ill-treated. She had no business
in the dining-room."

"He was kicked," said the cook.

"Come, my girl," returned Tucker, "this is not the way to speak to your
employer."

And at this, with one of those complete changes of manner so
disconcerting in the weaker sex, the cook turned to Crane, and said,
with the most melting gentleness:

"I'm sure it was not you, sir. I am sure you would not do such a thing.
You will excuse me if I was disrespectful, but perhaps you know, if you
have ever loved an animal, how you feel to see it brutally kicked
downstairs."

"Preposterous," said Tucker, carefully indicating that he was addressing
Crane alone. "This is all preposterous. Tell the woman to keep her cat
where it belongs, and we'll have no more trouble."

"It hasn't troubled me, Tuck," answered Crane cheerfully. "But I am
curious to know whether or not you did kick him."

"The question seems to be, do you allow your servants to be insolent or
not?"

Crane turned to the cook.

"Mr. Tucker seems unwilling to commit himself on the subject of the
kick," he observed. "Have you any reason for supposing your cat was
kicked?"

"Yes," said Jane-Ellen. "The noise, the scuffle, the bad language, and
the way Willoughby ran into the kitchen with his tail as big as a fox's.
He is not a cat to make a fuss about nothing, I can tell you."

"I beg your pardon," said Crane, who was now evidently enjoying himself,
"but what did you say the cat's name is?"

"Willoughby."

Burton threw himself back in his chair.

"Willoughby!" he exclaimed, "how perfectly delightful. Now, you must
own, Tuck, prejudiced as you are, that that's the best cat name you ever
heard in your life."

But Tucker would not or could not respond to this overture, and so Crane
looked back at Jane-Ellen, who looked at him and said: