A loud, irresponsible outburst of mirth on the part of Mrs. Silver followed.  When she could again control herself, she replied more definitely.  “Miss Julia say, she say she ain’t never hear no sech outragelous sto’y in her life!  She tuck on!  Hallelujah!  An’ all time, Miz Johnson, I give you my word, I stannin’ there holdin’ nat basket, carryin’ on up hill an’ down dale how them the same two Berjum cats Mista Sammerses sen’ her:  an’ trouble enough dess ten’in’ to that basket, lemme say to you, Miz Johnson, as anybody kin tell you whutever tried to take care o’ two cats whut ain’t yoosta each other in the same basket.  An’ every blessed minute I stannin’ there, can’t I hear that ole Miz Blatch nex’ do’, out in her back yod an’ her front yod, an’ plum out in the street, hollerin’:  ‘Kitty?  Kitty?  Kitty?’ ‘Yes!’ Miss Julia say, she say, ‘Fine sto’y!’ she say.  ’Them two cats you claim my Berjum cats, they got short hair, an’ they ain’t the same age an’ they ain’t even nowheres near the same size,’ she say.  ’One of ’em’s as fat as bofe them Berjum cats,’ she say:  ‘an’ it’s on’y got one eye,’ she say.  ‘Well, Miss Julia, ma’am,’ I say—­’one thing; they come out white, all ‘cept dess around that there skinnier one’s eye,’ I say:  ’dess the same you tell me they goin’ to,’ I say.  ’You right about that much, ma’am!’ I say.”

“Oh, me!” Mrs. Johnson moaned, worn with applausive laughter.  “What she respon’ then?”

“I set that basket down,” said Kitty Silver, “an’ I start fer the do’, whiles she unfasten the lid fer to take one mo’ look at ’em, I reckon:  but open window mighty close by, an’ nat skinny white cat make one jump, an’ after li’l while I lookin’ out thishere window an’ see that ole fat Miz Blatch’s tom, waddlin’ crost the yod todes home.”

“What she doin’ now?” Mrs. Johnson inquired.

“Who?  Miss Julia?  She settin’ out on the front po’che talkin’ to Mista Sammerses.”

“My name!  How she goin’ fix it with him, after all thishere dishcumaraddle?”

“Who?  Miss Julia?  Leave her alone, honey!  She take an’ begin talk so fas’ an’ talk so sweet, no young man ain’t goin’ to ricklect he ever give her no cats, not till he’s gone an’ halfway home!  But I ain’t tole you the en’ of it, Miz Johnson, an’ the en’ of it’s the bes’ part whut happen.”

“What’s that, Miss Kitty?”

“Look!” said Mrs. Silver.  “Mista Atwater gone in yonder, after I come out, an’ ast whut all them goin’s-on about.  Well suh, an’ di’n’ he come walkin’ out in my kitchen an’ slip me two bright spang new silbuh dolluhs right in my han’?”

“My name!”

“Yessuh!” said Mrs. Silver triumphantly.  And in the darkness outside the window Florence drew a deep breath.  “I’d of felt just awful about this,” she said, “if Noble Dill had given Aunt Julia those Persian cats.”

“Why?” Herbert inquired, puzzled by her way of looking at things.  “I don’t see why it would make it any worse who gave ’em to her.”