In a few
moments she reached the conclusion that the fox was probably a cat of some
new and interesting kind, and she lay down again, purring softly, and took
the little stranger to her heart.
Such a pair as those two did make! We named the fox Flash, and he was the
pride and the delight of the family. In a few days after his adoption Juno
came to look on him as quite the most beautiful creature she had ever
seen, and she showed a decided partiality for him. When she moved her
family from the stable to mother's room, which she did systematically
every morning, she always carried Flash in first and laid him on the rug
with an air of pride impossible to describe.
"No, no, Juno," mother would say, "he is very pretty, but I can't have him
here."
But Juno would run back after the kitten, and, having toiled upstairs with
it, would lay it on the rug also and lie down beside it, as though she
would say:
"I'd like to see you move me now!"
Within a month Flash could run everywhere, and he was the brightest, the
sharpest, the merriest little fellow that ever kept a respectable cat in
trouble with his escapades. That sharp nose of his was everywhere at once,
it seemed to me, and those bright eyes were peering into every corner in
search of mischief.
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