Dicky’s voice held a note of appeal, but I chose to ignore it.  My particular little devil must have sat at my elbow.

“I am sorry,” I said coldly, “but really, I do not see why it is any more incumbent on me to try to overcome my very real aversion to cats than it is for you to try to do without their society.”

“Very well,” Dicky exclaimed angrily, turning toward the door.  “If you feel that way about it, there is nothing more to be said.”

Then Dicky slammed the living room door behind him to emphasize his words, went down the hall, slammed the apartment door and ran down the steps.

Back in the living room, huddled up in the big chair which is the chief pride of the woman who rents us the furnished apartment, I sat, as angry as Dicky, and heartsick besides.  Our first quarrel had come!

But the cat remained.  What was I to do with her?  There is no cure for a quarrel like loneliness and reflection.  Dicky had not been gone a half-hour after our disagreement over the cat before I was wondering how we both could have been so silly.

I thought it out carefully.  I could see that Dicky was accustomed to having his own way unquestioned.  He had told me once that his mother and sister had spoiled him, and I reflected that he evidently expected me to go on in the same way.

On the other hand, I had been absolutely my own mistress for years, the little mother in a way being more my child than I hers.  Accustomed to decide for myself every question of my life I had no desire, neither had I intention of doing, any clinging vine act with Dicky posing at the strong oak.

But I also had the common sense to see that there would be real issues in our lives without wasting our ammunition over a cat.  Then, too, the remembrance of Dicky’s happy face when he thought he was surprising me tugged at my heart.

“If he wants a cat, a cat he shall have,” I said to myself, and calling my unwelcome guest to me with a resolute determination to do my duty by the beast, no matter how distasteful the task, I was just putting a saucer of milk in front of her when the door opened and Dicky came in like a whirlwind.

“How do you wear sackcloth and ashes?” he cried, catching me in his arms as he made the query.  “If you’ve got any in the house bring ’em along and I’ll put them on.  Seriously, girl, I’m awfully sorry I let my temper out of its little cage.  No nice thing getting angry at your bride, because she doesn’t like cats.  I’ll take the beast back tomorrow.”

“Indeed, you’ll do no such thing,” I protested.  “You’re not the only one who is sorry, I made up my mind before you came back not only to keep this cat, but to learn to like her.”

Dicky kissed me.  “You’re a brick, sweetheart,” he said heartily, “and I’ve got a reward for you, a peace offering.  Get on your frills, for we’re going to a first night.  Sanders was called out of town, had the tickets on his hands, and turned them over to me.  Hurry up while I get into my moonlights.”