“Maybe it is a witch-cat!” suggested Dr. Corliss, pretending to look frightened. “You people are all so fond of poetry and ravens and mystery and magics--you attract strange doings, you see. Maybe Aunt Nan had a witch-cat who helped her play tricks on the ever-to-be-surprised world.” “Daddy!” cried John, “there’s no such thing as a witch-cat, is there, truly?” “Of course not!” laughed his mother. “Daddy is only joking. And now I come to think of it, I have wondered why the scraps I put out for the birds always vanished so quickly. A hungry cat prowling about would explain everything.” “It might be Aunt Nan’s cat,” said Mary thoughtfully. “Poor thing! He might have run away when he couldn’t find Aunt Nan any more. He might have been frightened, and have hid under the house.” “I think in that case he would have starved to death in all these weeks,” said Mrs. Corliss. “Besides, I should think the neighbors would have told us, or that Aunt Nan herself would have left some word.” “I’m going to find out, if I can,” said Mary. “If it’s Aunt Nan’s cat I want to be good to him. We want to be good to him, anyway, don’t we?” “Of course we do,” said Mrs. Corliss. “But there is nothing so hard to tame as a wild cat.” Katy Summers knew nothing of any cat belonging to Miss Corliss. Neither did the other neighbors. That next day on coming home from school Mary again spied the cat. Just as she clicked the gate she saw the long, black shape scurry across the lawn and vanish under the ell, under Mary’s library. Mary tiptoed to the house and, stooping, called gently, “Kitty! Kitty! Kitty!” At first there was no response. But presently there came a feeble and doleful “Miaou!” And Mary thought she could catch the gleam of two green eyes glaring out of the darkness. “I must get him something to eat,” said Mary. “Perhaps I can tempt him to make friends.” And running into the house she returned with a saucer of milk and a bit of meat, which she set down close to the house. “Kitty! Kitty! Kitty!” she called, in a tone of invitation. “Miaou!” cried the forlorn cat again. But he did not come forth from his hiding-place. “I shall have to go away, and give him a chance to eat when I am not by,” thought Mary. And this she did. From her chamber window she could just manage to watch the hole under the ell. After a long time she was rewarded by seeing the cat’s head emerge from the hole. For a minute he stared around with wild eyes, his body ready to spring. But finding himself safe, he hungrily seized the meat and retreated with it under the house. Presently he came out again, licking his chops eagerly, and began to lap the milk, retreating every now and then as if some fancied sound alarmed him. The poor creature’s sides were so thin that he resembled a cut-out pasteboard cat. His tail was like that of a long black rat. He seemed to be wearing a collar about his neck. “He must have been somebody’s pet cat,” said Mary to herself. “I must try to tame him.”