California. But she says he'll never get married, because he is
looking for perfection, and when he finds her she won't have
HIM."

By this time we were all sitting down on the gnarled roots of the
spruces, and the big gray cat came over and made friends with us.
He was a lordly animal, with a silver-gray coat beautifully
marked with darker stripes. With such colouring most cats would
have had white or silver feet; but he had four black paws and a
black nose. Such points gave him an air of distinction, and
marked him out as quite different from the common or garden
variety of cats. He seemed to be a cat with a tolerably good
opinion of himself, and his response to our advances was slightly
tinged with condescension.

"This isn't Topsy, is it?" I asked. I knew at once that the
question was a foolish one. Topsy, the cat of which father had
talked, had flourished thirty years before, and all her nine
lives could scarcely have lasted so long.

"No, but it is Topsy's great-great-great-great-grandson," said
the Story Girl gravely. "His name is Paddy and he is my own
particular cat. We have barn cats, but Paddy never associates
with them. I am very good friends with all cats. They are so
sleek and comfortable and dignified. And it is so easy to make
them happy. Oh, I'm so glad you boys have come to live here.
Nothing ever happens here, except days, so we have to make our
own good times. We were short of boys before--only Dan and Peter
to four girls."