Even Cousin
Sophia looked less melancholy than usual and admitted that there was not
much fault to be found in the day, although there was no doubt it was a
weather-breeder and there would be an awful storm on its heels.
"Things is too calm to last," she said.
As if in confirmation of her assertion, a most unearthly din suddenly
arose behind them. It was quite impossible to describe the confused
medley of bangs and rattles and muffled shrieks and yowls that proceeded
from the kitchen, accompanied by occasional crashes. Susan and Cousin
Sophia stared at each other in dismay.
"What upon airth has bruk loose in there?" gasped Cousin Sophia.
"It must be that Hyde-cat gone clean mad at last," muttered Susan. "I
have always expected it."
Rilla came flying out of the side door of the living-room.
"What has happened?" she demanded.
"It is beyond me to say, but that possessed beast of yours is evidently
at the bottom of it," said Susan. "Do not go near him, at least. I will
open the door and peep in. There goes some more of the crockery. I have
always said that the devil was in him and that I will tie to."
"It is my opinion that the cat has hydrophobia," said Cousin Sophia
solemnly. "I once heard of a cat that went mad and bit three people--
and they all died a most terrible death, and turned black as ink."
Undismayed by this, Susan opened the door and looked in.
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