cats go if I had been killed by a shoe; so there."

"Serves us right for taking a boy with curls," said
Johnny Trumbull.

But he spoke unadvisedly. Arnold Carruth was
no match whatever for Johnny Trumbull, and had
never been allowed the honor of a combat with him;
but surprise takes even a great champion at a dis-
advantage. Arnold turned upon Johnny like a flash,
out shot a little white fist, up struck a dimpled leg
clad in cloth and leather, and down sat Johnny
Trumbull; and, worse, open flew his bag, and there
was a yowling exodus.

"There go your cats, too, Johnny Trumbull,"
said Lily, in a perfectly calm whisper. At that mo-
ment both boys, victor and vanquished, felt a simul-
taneous throb of masculine wrath at Lily. Who was
she to gloat over the misfortunes of men? But retri-
bution came swiftly to Lily. That viciously claw-
ing little paw shot out farther, and there was a limit
to Spartanism in a little girl born so far from that
heroic land. Lily let go of her bag and with diffi-
culty stifled a shriek of pain.

"Whose cats are gone now?" demanded Johnny,
rising.

"Yes, whose cats are gone now?" said Arnold.