And at this, with one of those complete changes of manner so disconcerting in the weaker sex, the cook turned to Crane, and said, with the most melting gentleness: "I'm sure it was not you, sir. I am sure you would not do such a thing. You will excuse me if I was disrespectful, but perhaps you know, if you have ever loved an animal, how you feel to see it brutally kicked downstairs." "Preposterous," said Tucker, carefully indicating that he was addressing Crane alone. "This is all preposterous. Tell the woman to keep her cat where it belongs, and we'll have no more trouble." "It hasn't troubled me, Tuck," answered Crane cheerfully. "But I am curious to know whether or not you did kick him." "The question seems to be, do you allow your servants to be insolent or not?" Crane turned to the cook. "Mr. Tucker seems unwilling to commit himself on the subject of the kick," he observed. "Have you any reason for supposing your cat was kicked?" "Yes," said Jane-Ellen. "The noise, the scuffle, the bad language, and the way Willoughby ran into the kitchen with his tail as big as a fox's. He is not a cat to make a fuss about nothing, I can tell you." "I beg your pardon," said Crane, who was now evidently enjoying himself, "but what did you say the cat's name is?" "Willoughby." Burton threw himself back in his chair. "Willoughby!" he exclaimed, "how perfectly delightful. Now, you must own, Tuck, prejudiced as you are, that that's the best cat name you ever heard in your life." But Tucker would not or could not respond to this overture, and so Crane looked back at Jane-Ellen, who looked at him and said: "Oh, do you like that name? I'm so glad, sir." And at this they smiled at each other. "Don't you think you had better go back to the kitchen, Jane-Ellen?" said the butler sternly. In the meantime, Tucker had lighted a cigar and had slightly recovered his equanimity. "As a matter of fact," he now said, in a deep, growling voice, "I did not kick the creature at all--though, if I had, I should have considered myself fully justified. I merely assisted its progress down the kitchen stairs with a sort of push with my foot." "It was a kick to Willoughby," said the cook, in spite of a quick effort on Smithfield's part to keep her quiet. "O Tuck!" cried Crane, "it takes a lawyer, doesn't it, to distinguish between a kick and an assisting push with the foot. Well, Jane-Ellen," he went on, turning to her, "I think it's not too much to ask that Willoughby be kept in the kitchen hereafter." "I'm sure he has no wish to go where he's not wanted," she replied proudly, and at this instant Willoughby entered exactly as before. All four watched him in a sort of hypnotic inactivity. As before, he walked with a slow, firm step to the chair in which Tucker sat, and, as before, jumped upon his knee. But this time Tucker did not move. He only looked at Willoughby and sneered.