He coolly curled up in Anne's lap and began to purr.
"He has evidently adopted you," laughed Priscilla.
"I won't BE adopted," said Anne stubbornly.
"The poor creature is starving," said Phil pityingly.

"Why, his bones are almost coming through his skin." "Well, I'll give him a square meal and then he must return to whence he came," said Anne resolutely.
The cat was fed and put out.

In the morning he was still on the doorstep.

On the doorstep he continued to sit, bolting in whenever the door was opened.

No coolness of welcome had the least effect on him; of nobody save Anne did he take the least notice.