said I was a nice boy."
"You already said that," reminded the injured brother.
"And she didn't act cruel to me once, even if she is a stepmother."
"But how did you come to be without your——"
Wilbur was again reprieved from her grilling. The Penniman cat, Mouser, a tawny, tigerish beast, had leaped to the porch. With set eyes and quivering tail it advanced crouchingly, one slow step at a time, noiseless, sinister. Only when poised for its final spring upon the helpless prey was it seen that Mouser stalked the blue jay on its perch. Wilbur, with a cry of alarm, snatched the treasure from peril. Mouser leaped to the porch railing to lick her lips in an evil manner.
"You will, will you?" Wilbur stormed at her. Yet he was pleased, too, for Mouser's attempt was testimony to the bird's merit. "She thought it was real," he said, proudly.
"But how did you come to have your clothes——" began Winona sweetly once more, and again the twin was saved from shuffling answers.
The dog, Frank, sniffing up timidly at Mouser on the porch rail, displeased her. From her perch she leaned down to curse him hissingly, with arched back and swollen tail, a potent forearm with drawn claws curving forward in menace.
"You will, will you?" demanded Wilbur again, freeing his legs from the leash in which the dismayed dog had entwined them.
Frank now fell on his back with limp paws in air and simpered girlishly up at his envenomed critic on the railing.
"We got to keep that old cat out the way. He eats 'em up—that's all he does, eats 'em! It's a good thing I was here to make him mind me."
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