Suddenly, faint but distinct, sounded an unmistakable mew under the box.
"He--he isn't dead," gasped Anne, sitting blankly down on the kitchen doorstep.
"He must be," said Phil incredulously.
Another tiny mew proved that he wasn't.

The two girls stared at each other.
"What will we do ?" questioned Anne.
"Why in the world don't you come ?" demanded Stella, appearing in the doorway.

"We've got the grave ready.

'What silent still and silent all ?'" she quoted teasingly.
"'Oh, no, the voices of the dead Sound like the distant torrent's fall,'" promptly counter-quoted Anne, pointing solemnly to the box.
A burst of laughter broke the tension.
"We must leave him here till morning," said Phil, replacing the stone.
"He hasn't mewed for five minutes.

Perhaps the mews we heard were his dying groan.