BERTRAM HAS VISITORS
Spunk did not change his name; but that was perhaps the only thing that did not meet with some sort of change during the weeks that immediately followed Billy's arrival. Given a house, five men, and an ironbound routine of life, and it is scarcely necessary to say that the advent of a somewhat fussy elderly woman, an impulsive young girl, and a very-much-alive small cat will make some difference. As to Spunk's name--it was not Mrs. Stetson's fault that even that was left undisturbed.
Mrs. Stetson early became acquainted with Spunk. She was introduced to him, indeed, on the night of her arrival--though fortunately not at table: William had seen to it that Spunk did not appear at dinner, though to accomplish this the man had been obliged to face the amazed and grieved indignation of the kitten's mistress.
"But I don't see how any one CAN object to a nice clean little cat at the table," Billy had remonstrated tearfully.
"I know; but--er--they do, sometimes," William had stammered; "and this is one of the times. Aunt Hannah would never stand for it--never!"
"Oh, but she doesn't know Spunk," Billy had observed then, hopefully. "You just wait until she knows him."Mrs. Stetson began to "know" Spunk the next day. The immediate source of her knowledge was the discovery that Spunk had found her ball of black knitting yarn, and had delightedly captured it. Not that he was content to let it remain where it was--indeed, no. He rolled it down the stairs, batted it through the hall to the drawing-room, and then proceeded to 'chasse' with it in and out among the legs of various chairs and tables, ending in one grand whirl that wound the yarn round and round his small body, and keeled him over half upon his back. There he blissfully went to sleep.
Billy found him after a gleeful following of the slender woollen trail. Mrs. Stetson was with her--but she was not gleeful.
"Oh, Aunt Hannah, Aunt Hannah," gurgled Billy, "isn't he just too cute for anything?"Aunt Hannah shook her head.
"I must confess I don't see it," she declared. "My dear, just look at that hopeless snarl!""Oh, but it isn't hopeless at all," laughed Billy. "It's like one of those strings they unwind at parties with a present at the end of it. And Spunk is the present," she added, when she had extricated the small gray cat. "And you shall hold him," she finished, graciously entrusting the sleepy kitten to Mrs. Stetson's unwilling arms.
"But, I--it--I can't--Billy! I don't like that name," blurted out the indignant little lady with as much warmth as she ever allowed herself to show. "It must be changed to--to 'Thomas.'""Changed? Spunk's name changed?" demanded Billy, in a horrified voice. "Why, Aunt Hannah, it can't be changed; it's HIS, you know." Then she laughed merrily. "'Thomas,' indeed! Why, you old dear!--just suppose I should ask YOU to change your name! Now _I_like 'Helen Clarabella' lots better than 'Hannah,' but I'm not going to ask you to change that--and I'm going to love you just as well, even if you are 'Hannah'--see if I don't! And you'll love Spunk, too, I'm sure you will. Now watch me find the end of this snarl!" And she danced over to the dumbfounded little lady in the big chair, gave her an affectionate kiss, and then attacked the tangled mass of black with skilful fingers.
"But, I--you--oh, my grief and conscience!" finished the little woman whose name was not Helen Clarabella.--"Oh, my grief and conscience," according to Bertram, was Aunt Hannah's deadliest swear-word.
