juncture Rusty arrived on the scene. He bounded joyously half
way across the room before he saw the intruders. Then he stopped short;
his tail expanded until it was as big as three tails. The fur on his
back rose up in a defiant arch; Rusty lowered his head, uttered a
fearful shriek of hatred and defiance, and launched himself at the
Sarah-cat.

The stately animal had stopped washing her face and was looking at him
curiously. She met his onslaught with one contemptuous sweep of her
capable paw. Rusty went rolling helplessly over on the rug; he picked
himself up dazedly. What sort of a cat was this who had boxed his ears?
He looked dubiously at the Sarah-cat. Would he or would he not? The
Sarah-cat deliberately turned her back on him and resumed her toilet
operations. Rusty decided that he would not. He never did. From that
time on the Sarah-cat ruled the roost. Rusty never again interfered with
her.

But Joseph rashly sat up and yawned. Rusty, burning to avenge his
disgrace, swooped down upon him. Joseph, pacific by nature, could fight
upon occasion and fight well. The result was a series of drawn battles.
Every day Rusty and Joseph fought at sight. Anne took Rusty's part and
detested Joseph. Stella was in despair. But Aunt Jamesina only laughed.

"Let them fight it out," she said tolerantly. "They'll make friends after
a bit. Joseph needs some exercise--he was getting too fat. And Rusty has
to learn he isn't the only cat in the world."

Eventually Joseph and Rusty accepted the situation and from sworn
enemies became sworn friends. They slept on the same cushion with their
paws about each other, and gravely washed each other's faces.

"We've all got used to each other," said Phil. "And I've learned how to
wash dishes and sweep a floor."

"But you needn't try to make us believe you can chloroform a cat,"
laughed Anne.

"It was all the fault of the knothole," protested Phil.

"It was a good thing the knothole was there," said Aunt Jamesina rather
severely. "Kittens HAVE to be drowned, I admit, or the world would be
overrun. But no decent, grown-up cat should be done to death--unless he
sucks eggs."

"You wouldn't have thought Rusty very decent if you'd seen him when he
came here," said Stella. "He positively looked like the Old Nick."

"I don't believe Old Nick can be so very, ugly" said Aunt Jamesina
reflectively. "He wouldn't do so much harm if he was. _I_ always think
of him as a rather handsome gentleman."