The two conspirators tip-toed reluctantly to the back porch . Phil gingerly lifted the stone she had put on the box . Suddenly , faint but distinct , sounded an unmistakable mew under the box . `` He -- he is n't dead , '' gasped Anne , sitting blankly down on the kitchen doorstep . `` He must be , '' said Phil incredulously . Another tiny mew proved that he was n't . The two girls stared at each other . `` What will we do ? '' questioned Anne . `` Why in the world do n'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 has n't mewed for five minutes . Perhaps the mews we heard were his dying groan . Or perhaps we merely imagined them , under the strain of our guilty consciences . ''
But , when the box was lifted in the morning , Rusty bounded at one gay leap to Anne 's shoulder where he began XXXXX lick her face affectionately .
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