The lady, however, did not seem to understand, for she went straight on toward the gray house. Then Sally began to struggle frantically to get out of the hand of the pretty lady. She scratched as hard as she could with her small claws. Without Oxford Gray, Junior, there would be no happiness in life. She would rather live in the Wild Wood with him and be hungry and cold than to be warm and well fed without him. ‘It is wicked to separate twins,’ she said, but, in spite of all her scratchings, the lady walked on to the door of the gray house. As they approached the door, to Sally’s joy, she saw with her own bright eyes the sign her father had described to her, ‘Welcome, Cats.’ There was a knocker on the door and the pretty lady gave a loud rap, and presently it was opened and Elvira stood before them. Sally was sure it was Elvira, for she had the beaming look when she saw Sally that her father had described. ‘What shall I do about this kitten?’ the pretty lady asked. ‘I can’t keep it, and the mother does not seem to be around.’ ‘There are two of them,’ said Elvira; ‘I have seen two.’ ‘Yes, there is another one outside, but he was scampering off so fast I don’t know that I can catch him.’ ‘Oh, please do,’ Sally said in her own language, ‘or else let me go, I can’t be separated from him.’ At last she had come across some one who understood kitten language, for Elvira said: ‘It would be a pity to separate them. Wherever they go, they should be kept together. Miss Mann has not planned to have any more cats, and yet, if she sees the kittens, maybe--at any rate, I’ll give them shelter for the night and a good square meal.’ ‘I’ll see if I can catch the other,’ said the lady. ‘That will be very kind of you, Mrs. Conant,’ said Elvira. ‘Mrs. Conant’--so she was a married lady. Sally had not dreamed of this, she looked so young. Now, Oxford Gray, Junior, when he was left alone was very disconsolate. He had not realized how fond he was of his little sister. To lose Sally--why, to lose her was like losing the sun out of the sky. Sally might be sad and woe-begone, just as the sun might hide behind clouds, but you knew the bright Sally would come back. And now she had gone, and it might be that she, too, like his grandmother, and his father, and mother, would never be seen again. ‘I’d be better to her if I only had her back,’ said Oxford Gray, Junior. ‘I’d let her have more of the food, but of course she really ought to learn to brace up.’ It seemed a long time to Oxford Gray, Junior, before the lady came down the steps of the house without Sally, for when one is not many weeks old, minutes seem very long. ‘What have you done with my sister?’ Oxford Gray, Junior, asked sternly; but the lady, although she looked unusually intelligent, evidently could not understand his language. [Illustration]