At the second "Hello, Sube!" he turned, outrage written on every feature. But Nancy seemed to concede to him the right to be peevish, for she spoke again even more sweetly than before. "See what _I've_ got!" [Illustration] And for the first time Sube saw in her arms a fluffy mass of white fur adorned by a huge pink bow. It was her kitten! Again Sube had the empty feeling; but this time it was, no doubt, because he had slighted his breakfast. Nancy passed on. And as he stood gazing after her he was dimly conscious of the stopping of an automobile; but he did not turn his eyes. He was too much engrossed in loving or hating; he didn't know which. "Good morning, young man!" Sube reluctantly turned his gaze to the speaker. It was Professor Silver--the one person in all the world (next to Dan Lannon) that Sube did not care to see. As the desperate boy battled with the temptation to turn and run, the professor began aggressively: "Now, young man, I had an opportunity to motor to Geneva last evening with a friend of mine; and when I found there was plenty of room, I thought it an excellent opportunity to deliver the cats you had on hand. I was unable to find you about, so I took the liberty of appropriating some gunnysacks that were hanging in the barn." Sube tried to speak, but before he was able to produce an intelligible sound, the professor began again. "Now, young man, there were two of those cats that I could not use on account of their long fur. Persian cats are of absolutely no use to our biological department. So I let the two go. That leaves ten merchantable cats to be accounted for at fifty cents a head." He held out to Sube a five dollar bill as he added: "I trust this will be satisfactory, young man. I want to be perfectly fair; but I do not feel that I should be required to pay for something that I could not use." Sube gazed at the banknote in his hand and wondered if he was in the midst of another dream as he gulped out something that the professor took to be an acceptance of his offer, and retired. Sube was still gazing at the banknote when Cathead came out of the house. "Oh, where'd you get that!" cried Cathead as he spied the greenback. The sound of Cathead's voice brought Sube back to his senses. He folded up the bill with a pleasant crackling sound and thrust it into his pocket, and turning to Cathead said loftily: "I owe a feller two dollars and a half; but that is neither here nor there. Want to go 'long and see me pay it to him?" CHAPTER XIII THE EVER-GLORIOUS FOURTH Probably the longest period of time that a boy is capable of comprehending is that which drags itself out between one Fourth of July and the next. From Christmas to Christmas is not nearly so long. This is a question that modern calendar makers should investigate, as Julius Cæsar seems to have overlooked it.