She had had many cats in her day, and she had always
thought she knew a dead cat when she saw one, and now this dead cat was
alive--ailing, perhaps, but alive. The more she considered it, the less
likely it seemed to her that she could have been mistaken about the
deadness of that cat. It had been offered to her twice. The first time
she saw it she knew it was dead, and the second time she saw it she knew
it was, if anything, more dead than it had been the first time. The
conclusion was obvious. A cat had been sent to her in a box. She had
refused to receive a dead cat, and the expressmen had taken the box away
again. Now there was a live, but sick, cat in the box. She had her
opinion of expressmen, express companies, and especially of the firm of
Hibbert & Jones. This full opinion she sent to Hibbert & Jones by the
next mail.
The next morning Flannery was feeling fine. He whistled as he went to
the nine--twenty train, and whistled as he came back to the office with
his hand-truck full of packages and the large express envelope with the
red seals on the back snugly tucked in his inside pocket, but when he
opened the envelope and read the first paper that fell out he stopped
whistling.
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