THE EIGHTH NIGHT
As Impty settled down into his place the next night, his purr sounded almost like a laugh.
“Why, Kitty, what are you laughing at?” Dolly asked, for the black kitten was usually a sober little person.
“I was just thinking of a prank my grandfather played in his young days, long, long before he ever thought of being the King of the Cats. If you like, I’ll tell it to you.”