"
By the time Cecily had repeated this nine times we were all
slightly infected with the desperate hope that something might
come of it; and when she had made her nine gyrations we looked
eagerly down the sunset lane, half expecting to see our lost pet.
But we saw only the Awkward Man turning in at the gate. This was
almost as surprising as the sight of Pat himself would have been;
but there was no sign of Pat and hope flickered out in every
breast but Peter's.
"You've got to give the spell time to work," he expostulated. "If
Pat was miles away when it was wished it wouldn't be reasonable to
expect to see him right off."
But we of little faith had already lost that little, and it was a
very disconsolate group which the Awkward Man presently joined.
He was smiling--his rare, beautiful smile which only children ever
saw--and he lifted his hat to the girls with no trace of the
shyness and awkwardness for which he was notorious.
"Good evening," he said. "Have you little people lost a cat lately?"
We stared. Peter said "I knew it!" in a triumphant pig's whisper.
The Story Girl started eagerly forward.
"Oh, Mr. Dale, can you tell us anything of Paddy?" she cried.
"A silver gray cat with black points and very fine marking?"
"Yes, yes!"
"Alive?"
"Yes.
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