Or perhaps we merely imagined them , under the strain of our guilty consciences . '' But , when the box was lifted in the morning , Rusty bounded at one gay leap to Anne 's shoulder where he began to lick her face affectionately . Never was there a cat more decidedly alive . `` Here 's a knot hole in the box , '' groaned Phil . `` I never saw it . That 's why he did n't die . Now , we 've got to do it all over again . '' `` No , we have n't , '' declared Anne suddenly . `` Rusty is n't going to be killed again . He 's my cat -- and you 've just got to make the best of it . '' `` Oh , well , if you 'll settle with Aunt Jimsie and the Sarah-cat , '' said Stella , with the air of one washing her hands of the whole affair . From that time Rusty was one of the family . He slept o'nights on the scrubbing cushion in the back porch and lived on the fat of the land . By the time Aunt Jamesina came he was plump and glossy and tolerably respectable . But , like Kipling 's cat , he `` walked by himself . '' His paw was against every cat , and every cat 's paw against him . One by one he vanquished the aristocratic felines of Spofford Avenue . As for human beings , he loved Anne and Anne alone . Nobody else even dared stroke him . An angry spit and something that sounded much like very improper language greeted any one who did .
`` The airs that XXXXX puts on are perfectly intolerable , '' declared Stella .
cat consciences face fat land one paw porch something stroke