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Updated: May 8, 2025
I had an article about it. How did you guess?" "There was something in the style of the narrative, a certain quite appreciable literary flavour which suggested the Anti-Cat; but please go on and keep to the words of the article as far as possible. You had just got to where you spoke to no one in particular."
Miss Battersby's sudden resignation was rather a shock to her. She was in a curiously chastened mood this morning." "She'll get over that all right," I said. "She'll be bringing out another number of the Anti-Cat in a couple of days." I spent two hours after the Canon left me watching the building of a new lodge at my back gate.
It was breakfast time and we were eating fish " "Trout," said the Canon. "I remember the morning perfectly. Tom Kitterick caught them the day before. I took him out with me. The Archdeacon had been over to see me." "Laying down my fork," Lalage went on, "I said to no one in particular " "Excuse me, Lalage," I said, "but is this a quotation from the last number of the Anti-Cat?" "It is.
I should, under ordinary circumstances, have taken a pleasure in defending the reputations of Blake and Wordsworth, but I shrank from attempting to do so in a pigsty with Lalage Beresford as an opponent, I turned to the last page of the Anti-Cat and read the article entitled "Our Tactics." It was exceedingly short, but it struck me as able. I began to have a great deal of pity for Miss Battersby.
It's curious, but she really seems fond of Lalage." "Did she by any chance force her way into the pigsty and find the Anti-Cat?" Canon Beresford looked at me and a smile hovered about his mouth. "So you've seen that production?" he said. "I call it rather good." "But you can hardly blame Miss Battersby for leaving, can you?" "She didn't see it," said the Canon, "thank goodness."
"I'd like the poor child to start fair, anyhow," said the Canon, "whatever happens later on." We unpacked a good many of Lalage's clothes and came on the second number of the Anti-Cat. Lalage took possession of it and turned over the pages, while the Canon and I refolded a blue serge dress and wedged it into its place with boots.
It was called, as I might have guessed, the Anti-Cat. The table of contents promised the following reading matter: 1. Poetry A Farewell. To be recited in her presence. The Ignominy of Having a Governess. Prize Competition for the Best Insult Story. "You can enter for that if you like," said Lalage, who had been following my eyes down the page.
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