`` No , we have n't , '' declared Anne suddenly . `` Rusty is n't going to be killed again . He 's my cat -- and you 've just got to make the best of it . '' `` Oh , well , if you 'll settle with Aunt Jimsie and the Sarah-cat , '' said Stella , with the air of one washing her hands of the whole affair . From that time Rusty was one of the family . He slept o'nights on the scrubbing cushion in the back porch and lived on the fat of the land . By the time Aunt Jamesina came he was plump and glossy and tolerably respectable . But , like Kipling 's cat , he `` walked by himself . '' His paw was against every cat , and every cat 's paw against him . One by one he vanquished the aristocratic felines of Spofford Avenue . As for human beings , he loved Anne and Anne alone . 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 do n'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 XXXXX 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 .
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