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to purring so loudly she could hear nothing else, she bumped the kitchen door open with her hip and dropped the cat onto his chair by the stove.
    “Now you stay there while I eat, and then we’ll go upstairs.”
    The cat set to cleaning himself, carefully licking each paw and wiping it over his ears and head.
    Elizabeth picked up a potholder and, opening the warming oven on the top of the cast-iron wood stove, took out her plate and set it on the table. Her place had already been set, including her napkin in a silver ring, sliced bread under a glass dome, and butter under another one. She filled her glass with milk and moved the teakettle to the warmer part of the stove. “A cup of tea would be nice, don’t you think?”
    Jehoshaphat mewled an answer and continued his bath, his tongue rasping over the fur on his chest.
    Before she sat down, Elizabeth fetched a book from the study and, opening to the correct chapter, began studying biology. She read from the text she’d purchased at the Carleton College bookstore and ate at the same time, stopping her fork hand to take notes on the pad of paper beside her plate, underlining and jotting notations on the book pages also. The teapot whistled, and she dropped a pat on the cat’s head as she retrieved the tea tin from a glass-fronted cupboard.
    Muttering the phyla for vertebrates, she dumped tea leaves into the china pot, poured in the hot water, and set the teapot on the table, reaching for the knitted cozy as she passed the counter. With the tea steeping, she read on, fork mechanically lifting food without her paying attention.
    She glanced up, mumbling the list again.
    Jehoshaphat chirped again, but with no answer leaped to the floor and crossed to twine himself about her ankles. When that elicited no response, he put both front paws on her thigh and whined plaintively.
    She left off eating and stroked his head with one hand, never giving him a glance. She even managed to pour her tea in between words. She’d just lifted her teacup to her mouth with her right hand when the cat leaped into her lap, banging her elbow and sending tea splattering everywhere.
    “Bad cat!” With a yowl, he jumped back to the floor and scooted under the table. “What do you think you’re doing?” She brushed the drops off her hand with her napkin, then scrubbed the marks off her textbook before cleaning her skirt. “Stupid animal.”
    “Meow.”
    “Too bad. You could see I was busy.” She caught herself, reviewing what she’d said. “As if you know what I’m saying.” Shaking her head, she laid the book face down on the table and, lifting the cutwork linen tablecloth, stuck her face under the edge. “Jehoshaphat, come here, boy. I’m sorry.” She made comforting noises, but the cat was having none of it. Tail in the air, he padded out from his hideout, stalked over to his chair, and leaped up. Without looking at her, he proceeded to clean again.
    “Serves you right.” Elizabeth poured herself another cup of tea and continued reading. Later, when she cleared the table, she saw the tea stains. “Oh no. Mother will be after me now.” She glanced over to see the empty chair. Jehoshaphat had scrammed. “Always one more thing. What’s wrong with being allowed to study without interruptions?” All the while she lifted the cloth from the table and set it to soak in cold water. Perhaps the stain would just disappear. Perhaps the sun would rise in the west too.
    When the page blurred and rubbing her eyes no longer helped, she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Had her father come in without stopping to talk? Or had he stopped all right, but not at home?
    She paused beside the closed dark oak door to her parents’ bedroom, listening for her father’s floor-shaking snore. Nothing. He’d not come home yet. Morning would be stiff again with her mother hardly talking, and if he did make it to church, he’d fall asleep during the sermon. She was grateful she sang in the choir so she