"If I had a cat that had been dead longer than that cat has been dead,"
said Doc Pomeroy as he moved away, "I wouldn't have to see it to know
that it was dead. A cat that has been dead longer than that cat has been
dead lets you know it. That cat will let you know it pretty quick, now."

"Thank ye," said Flannery. "An' ye have had a good look at it? Ye w'u'dn't
like t' look at it again, mebby? Thim is me orders, t'allow
ixamination be th' veterinary, an' if 't w'u'd be anny comfort t' ye I
will draw up a chair so ye can look all ye want to."

The veterinary raised his sad eyes to Flannery's face and let them rest
there a moment. "Much obliged," he said, but he did not look at the cat
again. He went back to his headquarters.

That afternoon Flannery and Timmy began walking quickly when they passed
the box, and toward evening, when Flannery had to make out his reports,
he went out on the back porch and wrote them, using a chair-seat for a
desk. One of his tasks was to write a letter to the New York office.

"W.B. 23645," he wrote, "the vetinnary has seen the cat, and its
diseased all right. he says so. no sine of Mrs. Warman yet but ile keep
the cat in the offis if you say so as long as i cann stand it. but how
cann i feed a diseased cat. i nevver fed a diseased cat yet. what do you
feed cats lik that."

The next morning when Flannery reached the office he opened the front
door, and immediately closed it with a bang and locked it. Timmy was
late, as usual. Flannery stood a minute looking at the door, and then he
sat down on the edge of the curb to wait for Timmy. The boy came along
after a while, indolently as usual, but when he saw Flannery he