And they never did. They made inquiries of the neighbors. But nobody could tell them anything definite about Aunt Nan’s cat. Some persons had, indeed, seen a big black creature stalking about the lawn in the old lady’s time, and had not liked the look of him, as they said. But as Miss Corliss had never had anything to do with her neighbors, so her cat seemed to have followed her example. And when Aunt Nan’s day was over, the cat simply disappeared. Caliban must have lived precariously by catching mice and birds. But he never deserted the neighborhood of the old house when the new tenants came to live there; though it took him some time to realize that these were relatives of his mistress whom he might trust. Once more an inmate of the house, Caliban never wandered again. He adopted Mary as his new mistress, and allowed her to take all kinds of liberties with him. But to the rest of the family he was always rather haughty and stand-offish. John never quite got rid of the idea that Caliban was a witch-cat. And sometimes he had a rather creepy feeling when the great black cat blinked at him with his green eyes. But Mary said it was all nonsense. “He’s just a dear, good, soft pussy-cat,” she cried one day, hugging the now plump and handsome Caliban in her arms. And Caliban, stretching out a soft paw, laid it lovingly against his little mistress’s cheek. But John vowed that at the same moment Caliban winked wickedly at him! CHAPTER VIII THE BUST For some weeks life went on quietly for the Corliss family, made more interesting by the coming of Caliban, who resembled his late mistress in some unexpected qualities. But the family had got used to being surprised by Aunt Nan’s jokes, so that they were no longer jokes at all. And nothing further of a mysterious nature happened in Mary’s library, so that everybody had about forgotten the excitement of the watch, the bookmark, and the unexplained key. The more Mary read her Shakespeare, the better she liked the plays, which, as she said, were “just full of familiar quotations!” Caliban approved heartily of Mary’s reading. He liked nothing better than to curl up in her lap while she sat in the big easy-chair, with her book resting on its broad arm; and his rumbling purr made a pleasant accompaniment whenever she read aloud. For Mary liked to read aloud to herself and to him. It made her understand the story so much better. Probably Caliban was used to assisting Aunt Nan in this same way. He was truly a cat of fine education. Mary wondered if he knew all the books in the library. “He looks wise enough to,” she thought. “I think Caliban likes some plays better than others,” she confided to her mother. “He didn’t seem to care so much for ‘Midsummer Night’s Dream,’ But then, I had almost finished it before he came. He was crazy over ‘Julius Cæsar,’--you ought to have heard him purr at Marc Antony’s great speech! And now that I have begun ‘The Tempest,’ he gets so excited, Mother!”