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That night when Mrs. Bennett went into the Fo’castle there was an unusual note in Billy’s voice. “Doh, re, mi, fah, soh, la, ti, doh,” sang the children in faint uncertain tones. “They’re great frauds, those aristocratic cats of sister’s,” Billy explained; “not a bit of use. They won’t fight, and—”.
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“Here are more beads of wampum, Betty, as I have no garden.” Nell Gordon’s silver donation added appreciably to the weight of the collection box. Nancy had jumped on a chair, and when Jethro pranced up to her again she promptly boxed his ear. The blow, delivered with such a soft paw, could not have been very severe, but the feelings of the pup were badly hurt. He did not yelp, but his brown eyes grew solemn and wistful and he ceased his antics. He put his forepaws on the rung of the chair and looked long and appealingly at Nancy. The cat sat down, her paws doubled under her, and apparently remained quite unmoved. But her heart may have been touched more than an observer would imagine, because from that time, she gradually grew more tolerant towards the pup. Now they were very good friends. The big hands in spite of the shiny gloves tied the dog fast and very close to the tree. “Now give me that dinky ribbon from your hair,” he commanded, and tied the growling dog’s forefeet together. And May Nell knew the man’s voice was gruffer when Bouncer was helpless. He gazed at her reproachfully from eyes that moved though his head could not. She would never forget those sad eyes that followed her when she was ordered away. CHAPTER VII THE FIGHT.
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