Nobody else even dared stroke him.

An angry spit and something that sounded much like very improper language greeted any one who did.
"The airs that cat puts on are perfectly intolerable," declared Stella.
"Him was a nice old pussens, him was," vowed Anne, cuddling her pet defiantly.
"Well, I don't know how he and the Sarah-cat will ever make out to live together," said Stella pesimistically.

"Cat-fights in the orchard o'nights are bad enough.

But cat-fights here in the livingroom are unthinkable." In due time Aunt Jamesina arrived.

Anne and Priscilla and Phil had awaited her advent rather dubiously; but when Aunt Jamesina was enthroned in the rocking chair before the open fire they figuratively bowed down and worshipped her.
Aunt Jamesina was a tiny old woman with a little, softly-triangular face, and large, soft blue eyes that were alight with unquenchable youth, and as full of hopes as a girl's.