"I like you for your loyalty," she said, "and I shall
like Timmy, too. Cats are misunderstood people. They can be splendid
friends. And black cats are supposed to bring luck."
"I should love to have Timmy bring _you_ some, ma'am," said Kate. "Not
that ye need it, of course."
"But I do," Angela answered. "As for you, I shall call you by your first
name. Kate, as if you were a French maid. I like it better than McGinnis."
"Thank you, so do I, ma'am. But it's me Tim has the fine name, which he'll
give me when the right time comes. It's Moriarty, and to my mind there's
none with more music in it. Oh, if ye only knew how happy ye've made me! I
was afraid me name would be as black in yer eyes as the cat, so that's why
I broke it to ye gently, and now I'm rewarded for everything."
Angela laughed again. "I fancied I was all alone in the world," she said
to herself, "and here I am collecting a family."
She had luncheon brought to her own sitting-room, when Kate had put away
everything and gone. Quantities of flowers she ordered, too--American
Beauty roses, which looked extraordinarily intelligent and companionable,
she thought. Then, most of the afternoon she spent in poring over maps,
planning what she called her "pilgrimage"; and a little before six she was
ready to go down and buy her ticket West, at the travel bureau which, she
heard, existed in the hotel.
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