‘That’s the radio,’ said Oxford. ‘I heard Miss Harvey talking to Elvira about it. They have them in all the houses now. Even Peter knows about them.’ ‘You didn’t know anything about it the other day,’ Sally ventured. ‘It is a long time since the other day,’ said Oxford, ‘and since then I have given my entire spare time to research. I have tried hard to learn all I could about the loud speakers and radios. Mr. Gardiner has one and I heard him talking to Miss Harvey. If one has masculine brains and sharp ears, there is no end to what one can learn. Sally, you are behind the times.’ [Illustration] CHAPTER XIII SALLY BRACES UP Now that Sally was used to the radio, she took a good deal of pleasure in it, in fact on very cold days she enjoyed it more than Miss Winifred did, for the parlor was a large room and the piano, where the radio stood, was between two long glass doors that let in a good deal of air through the cracks in winter weather. Sally, with her sharp ears, could hear every word the loud speaker said when she sat on her register in the opposite corner of the room. Sally knew that it was her own register, for there was another in the room. This one in the corner was often closed, so that Sally could lie there at her ease and feel just a pleasant warmth. Miss Winifred, who did not have a fur coat like Sally, had to walk up near the loud speaker and she was cold in that corner even with a sweater on. Yes, there were many advantages in being a cat, Sally thought. It was fine to have perfect sight and not to have to wear eye-glasses and to be so small you could lie on a register, and hear every word the loud speaker said. But people had no choice; perhaps many of them like herself would prefer to be cats. This New Year’s Eve she was especially interested in the sermon Miss Winifred was hearing. It seemed made on purpose for cats, for it spoke of the grace and gayety of a young kitten chasing its tail. Sally pricked up her ears at this. She liked the minister, whoever he might be. He understood something about life. He went on to say how sympathy should be given to all young things. There was a part Sally did not quite understand, and then she was struck by these words: ‘The beginning of the New Year is a good time to make resolutions, but every day is the beginning of a new year, we do not have to wait.’ Sally was glad of this, for a year was so very long to a cat. However, as there was to be a year beginning, it seemed a good time to make resolutions. She talked the matter over with Oxford afterward. ‘One of your resolutions, I should say, ought to be to brace up,’ said he. ‘Yes,’ said Sally meekly, ‘that is one.’ ‘I should think,’ he added, somewhat scornfully, ‘that it was about time you caught a mouse.’ ‘Yes, that is another of my resolutions,’ said she. ‘I have a few in mind,’ said Oxford. ‘I mean to give Peter the biggest thrashing he has ever had.’