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Here, Trilby! she called. Puss, puss, kitty, kitty, kitty.

Trilby did not appear. He gave no evidence, indeed, that he had heard, although he was under the front porch.

The sun was high and its rays direct and burning. The pavement was drying rapidly; the side-walks were already dry. More birds descended to take advantage of the unexpected free lunch. 'Occasionally a robin obstructed the path of a belligerent sparrow. Then there were passages at wings, bill-blows, followed by shrill cries of anguish and precipitate flight on the part of the robin, for the sparrow was invariably the victor in these duels. Flies in swarms began to buzz about the porch. Mrs. Bierbauer reached for her wire swatter.

The foreday hegira to business had begun. Buggies, sulkies, bicycles, phaetons, rolled by. Familiar figures occupied the seats. Mrs. Bierbauer, noting mentally that every one seemed in a hurry this morning, absent-mindedly continued her crazy croon in her muffled, creaking voice: