downstairs into the library. There in the middle of the mantelpiece, under Aunt Nan’s portrait and close beside the bust of Shakespeare, sat Caliban. He blinked in grave surprise at her unexpected entrance.

“Oh, Caliban, dear Caliban!” cried Mary, running up to him and hugging him tight. “I was afraid you had ‘vanished into thin air,’ too. I couldn’t have borne that, Caliban. I don’t know what I should ever do without you, pussy dear!”

“Miaou!” said Caliban, fondly kissing her cheek.

And Aunt Nan’s portrait smiled down upon the pair.

THE END

The Riverside Press CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS U . S . A

The Riverside Press

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.

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