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Spunkie has been boarding out all August at a cat home, but he seems glad to get back to us. I am anxious to see the two little chaps together, just to find out how much alike they really do look."
William regarded his namesake with fond eyes as he said: "Spunkie doesn't seem to be worrying." The cat had jumped into Billy's lap with a matter-of-course air that was unmistakable and to Bertram, adorable. Bertram's eyes, as they rested on Billy, were even fonder than were his brother's. "I don't think any one is worrying," he said with quiet emphasis. Billy smiled.
Billy fidgeted in her chair, twisted her neck to look out into the hall and dropped her book with a bang. Uncle William jerked himself awake, and Spunkie opened sleepy eyes. Then both settled themselves for another nap. Billy sighed, picked up her book, and flounced back into her chair. But she did not read.
"Well, Spunkie, come here," commanded Billy, snapping her fingers at the slow-moving creature on the hearthrug. "Spunkie, when I am your mistress, you'll have to change either your name or your nature. As if I were going to have such a bunch of independent moderation as you masquerading as an understudy to my frisky little Spunk!" Everybody laughed.
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