"
"Indeed I do; I like it ever so much. I shall stay here lots, I know."
"Oh, you--will!" For once even Bertram's ready tongue failed to find
fitting response.
"Yes. Now paint. I want to see you. Aunt Hannah has gone out anyway, and
I'm lonesome. I think I'll stay."
"But I can't--that is, I'm not used to spectators."
"Of course you aren't, you poor old lonesomeness! But it isn't going to
be that way, any more, you know, now that I've come. I sha'n't let you
be lonesome."
"I could swear to that," declared the man, with sudden fervor; and for
Billy's peace of mind it was just as well, perhaps, that she did not
know the exact source of that fervency.
"Now paint," commanded Billy again.
Because he did not know what else to do, Bertram picked up a brush; but
he did not paint. The first stroke of his brush against the canvas was
to Spunk a challenge; and Spunk never refused a challenge. With a bound
he was on Bertram's knee, gleeful paw outstretched, batting at the end
of the brush.
"Tut, tut--no, no--naughty Spunk! Say, but wasn't that cute?" chuckled
Billy. "Do it again!"
The artist gave an exasperated sigh.
"My dear girl," he protested, "cruel as it may seem to you, this picture
is not a kindergarten game for the edification of small cats. I must
politely ask Spunk to desist."
"But he won't!" laughed Billy.
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