She seized the gray cat that stood on the
stone step casting angry looks at Schnurri, and flung her into the
carriage. The whip cracked, and off they rolled.
Aunt Ninette hastened into her husband's room in great alarm, not knowing
what effect all this disturbance would have upon him. He was sitting
calmly at his table, with all the windows in the room closed and fastened.
"My dear Titus! who could have foreseen this? What shall we do?" she
called out in tones of despair.
"It strikes me that the next house has a great wealth of children. We
cannot help that, but we can keep the windows shut," replied her husband
resignedly.
"But, my dearest Titus, only remember that you have come here expressly
to breathe the healthy mountain air! As you never go out, you must let the
air come in to you. But what will be the end if this is the beginning?
What will become of us if this goes on?"
"We must go home again," said Uncle Titus, continuing to write.
Somewhat calmed by this proposition, Aunt Ninette returned to her room.
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