concealed antagonism. But,
at the soft, purring flattery of his voice, the gleam softened to a
glow of pleased interest, and the little creature rose lazily,
stretched itself, and tripped lightly over to him, its tail erect in
optimistic confidence.

Morrow picked it up gingerly by the neck and tucked it beneath his
coat, stroking its head with a reluctant thumb, while it purred loudly
in sleepy content, at the warmth of its welcome. The hour was
approaching when Emily Brunell usually made her appearance, and he
trusted to luck to keep the little animal quiet until she had entered
her home and discovered its loss, but the fickle goddess failed him.

The kitten grew suddenly uneasy, as if some intuition warned it of
treachery, and tried valiantly to escape from his grasp, and never did
Spartan boy with wolf concealed beneath his tunic suffer more
tortures than Morrow with the wretched little creature clawing at his
hands.

Would Emily Brunell never come? What could be keeping her to-night, of
all nights? Morrow gripped the soft, elusive bundle of fur with
desperate firmness and looked across the street. Evidently he was not
the only one impatient for her arrival. The doorway opposite had
opened, and Jimmy Brunell stood peering anxiously forth into the
darkness.

At that moment the kitten emitted a fearsome yowl, which Morrow
smothered hastily with his coat. He fancied that the old man turned
his head quickly and glanced in his direction, and never had the
operative felt guiltier.

Brunell, however, retired within, closing the door after him, and the
kitten's struggles gradually grew weaker and finally ceased.

Morrow felt a horrible fear surging up within him that he had
strangled the little beast, and his grasp gradually relaxed. Then he
opened his overcoat cautiously and peered within. The kitten was
sleeping peacefully, and he heaved a sigh of relief, glancing up just
in time to see Emily Brunell pass quickly through her own gate and up
to the door.

He sat motionless on the steps of Mrs. Quinlan's, and his patience was
rewarded when after a few moments the Brunell's door re-opened and he
heard the girl's voice calling anxiously: "Kitty! Kitty!"

Morrow rose with unfeigned alacrity and crossing the road, opened the
little gate without ceremony and mounted the steps of the porch.

"I beg your pardon," he said blandly. "Is this your kitten?
It--er--wandered across the street to me and fell asleep under my
c