The dark-haired man rummaged in a leather valise on the front seat of an automobile. This auto was not the color of a robin’s egg, as had been the case the last time he’d been at Miss Maisie’s, but the color of a crow’s feather. The chocolate-striped cat recognized it as a method of transport, all the same. She bathed her right front paw as the man shook a powdery substance into his mouth and then washed it down with water from a sterling silver flask. Had the feline been closer and had she been able to read, she would have seen the engraving on the flask: To Cypher, with great admiration and appreciation, William H. Taft, President of the United States.

The cat moved on to her second front paw. She had twice previously exerted her special influence on this man; a third time might be problematic. But there would be no question of being left behind. Ridiculous! Where the girl went, so did she. The faithful feline purred, having satisfactorily completed her toilette, then stretched lazily. To her, challenges were like saucers of cream: meant to be licked.

Much to the cat’s dismay, the man slid behind the large wheel, hand resting on the leather valise. She was as clever as they come, but this pose made leaping into that leather valise undetected a virtual impossibility.

It should be noted that the cat was a hunter of astonishing ability. Though she did her best to refrain from molesting the wildlife on the grounds of Miss Maisie’s School, as that so upset her beloved girl, the cat considered the birds and mice and voles and whatnot beyond the School’s borders fair game. And even a kitten knows that skillful hunting requires an infinite supply of patience.

Hunkering low, the cat now drew on that vast well of patience. Though she did not yet know how she would manage it, she would accompany her friend. She had overheard that the automobile was merely being used to ferry its occupants from the School to the train depot. And the train depot was an easy lope away. The catch was how to slip, undetected, onto the train. The cat’s tail thumped the driveway as she considered possibilities.

The wait was finally rewarded by her girl and the girl’s friend dashing to the car, each with one hand on a hat, and the other wrapped around the handle of a piece of luggage. Cook and Beatrice followed close behind, lugging a sizable wicker picnic basket between them. The basket was jam-packed with provisions sufficient to sustain the travelers on their journey, including—the cat sniffed—tuna salad sandwiches. How thoughtful. And how thoughtful, too, that the picnic basket, when emptied of its victuals, would be exactly the right size to house a certain cat with chocolate-striped fur.

Satisfied, the persistent puss bounded off to the train station.