And what her heart cried was this: "O God, tak care o' me frae the rottans." There was no need to send an angel from heaven in answer to this little one's prayer: the cat would do.

Annie heard a scratch and a mew at the door.

The rats made one frantic scramble and were still.
"It's pussy!" she cried, recovering the voice for joy that had failed her for fear.
Fortified by her arrival, and still more by the feeling that she was a divine messenger sent to succour her because she had prayed, she sprang out of bed, darted across the room, and opened the door to let her in.
A few moments and she was fast asleep, guarded by God's angel, the cat, for whose entrance she took good care ever after to leave the door ajar.
There are ways of keeping the door of the mind also, ready as it is to fall to, ajar for the cat..