‘I went to call on two ladies the other day,’ he said, ‘who were longing to go back to the State of Washington where they used to live, but they said they could not go because the journey would be too much for their cat, who was old and settled in his ways.’ Sally wished she knew the ladies. They understood something of life and saw things in their right proportion. ‘I suggested to them that they could give their cat away, or send him to the Animal Rescue League,’ the loud speaker went on. Sally became alarmed. If this were, indeed, the loud speaker, and he came here to live, what chance was there for Oxford and herself? Would he not make a clean sweep of all who wore fur coats? She was relieved to find by Miss Winifred’s next question that he had a wife and several children. He surely could not be leaving them to come and live here just to talk to Miss Winifred. Presently he took his hat and went to the door, shaking hands with Miss Winifred, and saying it had been good to see her, and never giving one glance in Sally’s direction. ‘It was rude of him,’ Sally said to herself, ‘when I am a perfect lady. It never does any harm to be polite.’ A few days later, something that had a strange appearance was on the piano. Sally found it there one afternoon. It looked like a very small bureau with knobs in odd places, and two things that looked like clocks. Sally wondered what it could be. There was a small round table close by the piano, and on this was standing a long black thing, shaped something like a huge calla lily. The next afternoon, when Sally was upstairs, she heard a concert going on in the parlor. There were several shrill voices and it sounded very much like the concerts Sally’s cat friends sometimes gave. But these took place at night. Sally was of a curious nature, and she hurried down to see what was going on. To her surprise when she reached the parlor not a soul was to be seen except Miss Winifred. Sally had never heard her sing, and the sound seemed to be coming out of the black calla lily, for the piano was shut. Presently Miss Winifred touched one of the knobs and the music came to an end. Sally was more and more mystified. Then Miss Winifred touched a knob and Sally heard a man say, ‘This is the friendly voice of Boston.’ Sally agreed that Boston had a nice voice, but he was nowhere to be seen. She looked around the room, but could see no one. She went under the piano, thinking Boston might be there. Some one was giving a talk about grapefruit juice. Sally did not care about the talk, for she liked milk for her drink. Finally she got up on the table on which the big black calla lily stood and looked down into it. The voice sounded so loud, Sally was frightened. She skipped down and ran out into the kitchen to tell Oxford about it. ‘There’s a man that’s only got a voice and no body, and he lives in the black thing on the table, and his name is Boston,’ she told him. ‘And sometimes he sings.’