asleep with their paws tucked under them like mittens in a muff. At the front door there were two more cats sleeping on the setees on either side of the tiny entrance way.
Boy pressed the buzzer and it reverberated through the high-ceilinged rooms. Through the ragged screen door he could make out little in the dim shadows of the interior, but he soon heard the slap-slap of the Cat-Woman's sandals on the bare floors.
"Who is it?" she called in her soft throaty voice.
"It's me, Boy McFarlane."
"Well! Come in! Come in!" she greeted him, unlatching the door. "Aloha to you!"
Boy pulled open the screen and almost stepped on a huge black-and-yellow calico cat lying on the rug in front of the door.
"Watch out! Don't step on Buzzy," warned the Cat-Woman, "he likes to lie here."
But when Boy stepped into the dark hall, Buzzy, now awake, rose from the rug, stretched mightily, arched his back, yawned widely, and dutifully followed in the wake of the Cat-Woman's straw sandals.
The Cat-Woman looked tiny in her voluminous mu'umu'u. She was slightly hunchbacked from a childhood accident. Perhaps because of this and the fact she loved cats, Lovely accused her of having a witchlike personality. She had a lot of soft gray hair which was twisted into a bun and held up with a high filigreed tortoise-shell comb, but unfortunately most of it escaped in unruly wisps around her face and over her dark luminous eyes.
"I'm folding newspapers this morning," explained the Cat-Woman going over to a long table loaded with papers. "You can sit down in the rocker and keep me company."
The light in the vast living room was dim and Boy almost sat on Patches, a black-and-yellow cat sleeping in the rocking chair.
"Careful! Don't sit on Patches," cried the Cat-Woman excitedly. "She thinks she owns that chair. Put her on the floor; she's been there all morning." She looked fondly at the cat Boy gently put on the floor.
On the long table there were two other cats watching the Cat-Woman with bright alert eyes, following every move she made as she folded and creased the papers. Then one of the cats put a gentle restraining paw on the Cat-Woman's wrist, as though to play a little.
"Isn't that cute?" glowed the Cat-Woman delightedly. "The little pet wants to play."
"Why are you folding all those newspapers?" Boy asked finally.
"I like to save everything," the Cat-Woman said. "I do not believe in throwing things away. If you will look over there by the wall, you will see all the papers I have saved."
Boy saw that the Cat-Woman had, indeed, saved her papers. Neatly folded and stacked they reached almost to the ceiling, and on the very top of them a black cat with shiny green eyes watched them warily, his body poised, ready to leap at the first sign of danger.
"Never mind, Inky," the Cat-Woman spoke soothingly to the animal. "Everything is fine." Strangely enough, the cat's tense muscles relaxed and it sank back again into a restful position.
Boy sat and rocked as the Cat-Woman folded her papers. He loved the Cat-Woman's house. It was much more interesting than his, with Lovely's immaculate housekeeping. Every time he called on the Cat-Woman, he discovered something he had never seen before. In tall, glassed, oaken cabinets were many items: old feather leis, a collection of Spanish combs that Hawaiian women love so much to wear when they dress up, an old poi pounder, innumerable shells from the South Seas—beautiful pink spiny ones, black-spotted cowries, and one rare golden cowrie that Cat-Woman said was very valuable—a necklace of kukui nuts as black as night and highly polished, an anklet of yellowed shark's teeth, two or three calabashes, two carved wooden images with pearly shell eyes, a model outrigger canoe exquisitely carved in every detail, a cluster of blue glass balls that had floated loose from the nets of fishermen from Japan, and many other things.
"I like your house," said Boy finally. "It's full of many interesting things."
"Thank you, Boy," replied the Cat-Woman. "That is because it is old and because I do not throw things away."
Boy rocked some more. Without much ado, Patches suddenly jumped into Boy's lap and settled herself comfortably. Boy found himself stroking the cat's soft fur over and over. In the far corner of the shadowy room he saw the outline of an old grand piano, its once beautiful wood now warped and stained from the humid, salty sea air. A tattered Chinese silk shawl covered its scarred surface. There, lying full length upon a stack of music was another cat, a snow-white animal. There was still another cat sitting on the piano bench. This one washed its face and licked itself tirelessly. Beneath the bench, still another cat rolled over and over on its back as it tried to manipulate a bright red rubber ball.
The Cat-Woman saw Boy's eyes looking at the piano.
"That's the Snow Queen on top of the music," explained the Cat-Woman, "she has such beautiful blue eyes. I've never seen a cat with blue eyes before, except a Siamese cat. Now, look who's coming across the room. That is my Lady! Isn't she lovely? Her tail is Angora. I've put a black velvet bow around her neck, she's so special. But, if you want to see something sweet, look into that far corner by the cabinet."
Boy brushed Patches to the floor and went to the corner by the cabinet. In a cardboard carton upon an old sweater lay a golden cat with a pink nose and pink paws nursing a litter of kittens.
"That's Mommy," said the Cat-Woman. "She's the best little mother in the world! She raises her kittens properly, never deserts them."
"So many kittens!" observed Boy looking down at half a dozen tiny creatures, all different—white, black striped, calico, spotted, and yellow.
"Mommy's litters are always so unusual," said the Cat-Woman with great pride. "Now, Boy, how about some guava juice and cookies? I baked early this morning."
Boy followed her to the kitchen where there were even more cats! There were cats everywhere: cats on the sink, cats on top of the food safe, cats on the unlighted stove, cats on the floor in front of the icebox, and a cat even on top of the refrigerator. They all looked up expectantly when the Cat-Woman appeared.
"My!" gasped Boy dumbfounded, "bow many cats are there?"
"They are all waiting for me to feed them," explained the Cat-Woman." You see I have fresh fish in the icebox, but I'm not going to give them any until evening. I really am very firm with them."
As the Cat-Woman opened the refrigerator door to get the pitcher of cold guava juice, all the cats got to their feet, jumped to the floor and hugged close to the Cat-Woman's mu'umu'u.
"No! No!" scolded the Cat-Woman, "you have to wait until tonight for the fish."
With the plate of cookies and pitcher of guava juice in her hands, the Cat-Woman led the way back to the living room.
The Cat-Woman resumed her task of folding newspapers, and Boy, with Patches once more settled on his lap, rocked and munched his cookies. An eerie eye of yellow light filtered from the parchment shade and made a golden pool on the floor, but the remainder of the room was shadowy. All around him Boy felt the silent living presence of the cats, and saw their eyes gleaming from every darkened corner. Outside, the rain misted and dripped tears from the eaves and bushes. The waves, like white horses, reared and plunged over the reef, their roar filling the room. Beneath the house the sea rushed up under the pilings
