"Thanks."
Jeff ran out on the street and hailed a taxi.
"The nearest place where I can buy a kitten," he directed, "and stay
with me. I want you all afternoon."
"Sure, Bub."
Half past four, and five pet shops later, Jeff found what he wanted. Of
three white Angora kittens in the window, one was almost the twin of
Granny's departed pet. It watched Jeff shyly, and arched its back
against his hand. Then it promptly proceeded to bite his finger. Plainly
it was a kitten with character.
"I want it!" Jeff told the astonished proprietor. "Put it in a cage or
something because it's going on the train!"
Lifted into a second-hand bird cage, the kitten spat its indignation and
fell to swiping at shadows with a silky paw. Jeff laid five dollars, the
requested price, on the counter and thrust his hand into the pocket
where the miniatures lay.
"Present for you," he said, scattering them across the counter. He
rushed to the cab. "Hotel Kennard and don't spare the gasoline. I have
to be at the station by five-two!"
He made it with a whole minute to spare.