"Interurban Express Co., New York," he wrote. "Consiny Mrs. Warman wont
reciev cat way bill 23645 Hibbert and Jones consinor cat is--"

He grinned and ran the end of the pen through his stubble of red hair.

"What is th' swell worrd fer dead, Timmy?" he asked. "I'm writin' a
letter t' th' swell clerks in New Yorrk that be always guyin' me about
me letters, an' I 'll hand thim a swell worrd fer wance."

"Deceased," said Timmy, grinning.

"'Tis not that wan I was thinkin' of," said Flannery, "but that wan
will do. 'Tis a high-soundin' worrd, deceased."

He dipped his pen in the ink again.

"--cat is diseased," he wrote. "Pleas give disposal. Mike Flannery."

When the New York office of the Interurban Express Company received
Flannery's letter they called up Hibbert & Jones on the telephone.
Hibbert & Jones was the big department store, and it was among the
Interurban's best customers. When the Interurban could do it a favour it
was policy to do so, and the clerk knew that sending a cat back and
forth by rail was not the best thing for the cat, especially if the cat
was diseased.

"That cat," said the manager of the live-animal department of Hibbert &
Jones, "was in good health when it left here, absolutely, so far as we
know. If it was not it is none of our business. Mrs. Warman came in and
picked the cat out from a dozen or more, and paid for it. It is her cat.