The cat obediently lay down on his mattress and closed his eyes.
Judging from the expression of his face and whiskers, he was
displeased with himself for having lost his temper and got into a
fight.
Kashtanka began whining resentfully, while the gander craned his
neck and began saying something rapidly, excitedly, distinctly, but
quite unintelligibly.
"All right, all right," said his master, yawning. "You must live
in peace and friendship." He stroked Kashtanka and went on: "And
you, redhair, don't be frightened. . . . They are capital company,
they won't annoy you. Stay, what are we to call you? You can't go
on without a name, my dear."
The stranger thought a moment and said: "I tell you what . . . you
shall be Auntie. . . . Do you understand? Auntie!"
And repeating the word "Auntie" several times he went out. Kashtanka
sat down and began watching. The cat sat motionless on his little
mattress, and pretended to be asleep. The gander, craning his neck
and stamping, went on talking rapidly and excitedly about something.
Apparently it was a very clever gander; after every long tirade,
he always stepped back with an air of wonder and made a show of
being highly delighted with his own speech. . . . Listening to him
and answering "R-r-r-r," Kashtanka fell to sniffing the corners.
In one of the corners she found a little trough in which she saw
some soaked peas and a sop of rye crusts. She tried the peas; they
were not nice; she tried the sopped bread and began eating it. The
gander was not at all offended that the strange dog was eating his
food, but, on the contrary, talked even more excitedly, and to show
his confidence went to the trough and ate a few peas himself.