to play
off a joke on the Republicans. So they went to a paint-shop, and got
some black paint, and painted, on the other side of the box, "Hancock
Serenaders." That was the only thing they could think of to pay off the
Democrats whom they suspected of the joke.

Jerry knew what it meant as soon as he saw the box. He had heard from
Johnny and Rosy all about their wonderful cats over at Uncle Frank's,
and how terribly they missed them; but it had never crossed anybody's
mind that Uncle Frank would send them after the children. Poor Jerry
didn't much like the prospect of his ride from the station to the house;
however, he put the box into the Rockaway, got home with it as quickly
as possible, and took it immediately to the barn.

Then he went into the house with the mail, as if nothing had happened.
Jerry was something of a wag in his way, as well as Mr. Frank
Wellington; so he handed the letters to Mrs. Chapman without a word, and
stood waiting while she looked them over. As soon as she read the postal
she exclaimed,--

"Oh, Jerry, this is too bad. There's company down at the station; came
by the three o'clock train. You'll have to go right back and get them. I
wonder who it can be."

"They've come, ma'am," said Jerry quietly.

"Come!" exclaimed Mrs. Chapman; "come? Why, where are they?" and she
ran out on the piazza. Jerry stopped her, and coming nearer said, in a
low, mysterious tone,--

"They're in the barn, ma'am!"

"Jerry! In the barn! What do you mean?" exclaimed Mrs. Chapman. And she
looked so puzzled and frightened that Jerry could not keep it up any
longer.

"It's the cats, ma'am," he said; "them cats of Johnny's from Mr.
Wellington's: all of 'em. The men to the station said there was forty;
but I don't think there's more 'n twenty; mebbe not so many 's that;
they're rowin' round so, you can't count 'em very well."

"Oh, dear! oh, dear!" said Mrs. Chapman. "What won't Frank Wellington do
next!" Then she found her mother, and told her, and they both went out
to the barn to look at the cats. Jerry lifted up one of the slats so
that he could put in a pail of milk for them; and as soon as they saw
friendly faces, and heard gentle voices, and saw the milk, they calmed
down a little, but they were still terribly frightened. Grandma Jameson
could not help laughing, but she was not at all pleased.

"I think Frank Wellington might have been in better business," she said.
"We do not want any more cats here; th