He was worth his weight in
gold during the awful week that followed. We did not dare
advertise, lest Aunt Cynthia should see it; but we inquired far
and wide for a white Persian cat with a blue spot on its tail,
and offered a reward for it; but nobody had seen it, although
people kept coming to the house, night and day, with every kind
of a cat in baskets, wanting to know if it was the one we had
lost.
"We shall never see Fatima again," I said hopelessly to Max and
Ismay one afternoon. I had just turned away an old woman with a
big, yellow tommy which she insisted must be ours--"cause it kem
to our place, mem, a-yowling fearful, mem, and it don't belong to
nobody not down Grafton way, mem."
"I'm afraid you won't," said Max. "She must have perished from
exposure long ere this."
"Aunt Cynthia will never forgive us," said Ismay, dismally. "I
had a presentiment of trouble the moment that cat came to this
house."
We had never heard of this presentiment before, but Ismay is good
at having presentiments--after things happen.
"What shall we do?" I demanded, helplessly. "Max, can't you find
some way out of this scrape for us?"
"Advertise in the Charlottetown papers for a white Persian cat,"
suggested Max. "Some one may have one for sale. If so, you must
buy it, and palm it off on your good Aunt as Fatima. She's very
short-sighted, so it will be quite possible."
"But Fatima has a blue spot on her tail," I said.
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