Chapter XXXII: A Kittie Party 230 (3)

“When I was a little girl in Switzerland, we had horses, cows, dogs, cats and rabbits, and I was very fond of them all. I suppose the reason I have become so fond of cats is because I have for many years been deprived of the other pets, and for some time while boarding, I didn’t even have a cat. But just before Guy was born we started housekeeping in a down-town cottage, and on the very first day an enormous black cat came to the kitchen door, pleading for admittance. Having found that there were mice and rats in the cellar, I gladly let him in and from that day I never saw a rat or a mouse in the house. We fixed him a comfortable corner in the basement, and named him ‘Tom.’ From the first he acted like one thoroughly familiar with the premises, and no wonder: I learned afterward from the neighbors that he had lived in that house for many years with successive tenants.

“But one morning I heard some very queer noises in the basement, and when I went down to see what it was, I found Tom lying in his basket with four of the tiniest kittens I had ever seen, and looking up at me so pleadingly, as if to say: ‘You’ll be good to them, won’t you?’

“We knew then that ‘Tom’ was not an appropriate name for our cat, for whoever heard of a mother cat named ‘Tom’? So we told Guy’s nurse to find a new name for her, and because she was so black, Emma named her ‘Old Blackie.’”

“What has become of Old Blackie and her kittens?” said Aunt Minnie.

Mistress continued: “Blackie raised her family, two tigers and two Maltese; the Maltese were named ‘Jumbo’ and ‘Fritz,’ the tigers ‘Meow’ and ‘Peggy.’ Jumbo and Peggy were adopted by the doctor who attended Guy; Fritz was taken home by our milkman, and I kept Meow. But the following year Guy’s health was not good, and we went to my father’s to spend the summer on the farm. In the meantime some more kittens had come to Blackie, and I arranged with my neighbor’s little girl to take care of the whole family during my absence, and to find homes for the little ones, if she could. Meow we took with us, in a large bird cage covered with a cloth.”

As I listened to the story of Old Blackie, I was reminded of old Peter, a cat that was deserted by his people who left him in the cellar. He was nearly drowned when the landlord found him, and took him to his own beautiful home; and he named him Peter, because he had found him walking in the water.

Aunt Minnie had by this time become so interested in mistress’ story, that she asked her to also relate the history of Meow.

“That was my first experience traveling with a cat,” said mistress. “Emma took care of Meow, and I held the baby.

“On the farm Meow became very popular, and she and grandpa were the best of friends. I well remember how at meal-times she would always sit on the broad window-sill in the dining-room, and as soon as grandpa finished, and began to lean back in his big armchair, she would spring on his shoulder and caress him. Then he would prepare her a dainty dinner and carry it out to the kitchen with her perched on his shoulder. I also remember that when her first kittens came she was determined to put them into my bureau drawer. But I took her out into the kitchen and made her a nice soft bed in an old cheese box, where she raised her family and became a very good mother.”

“But where is Meow now?” said Aunt Minnie.

“When the summer was over and the time approached for our departure,” said mistress, “grandpa had become so attached to Meow, he invited her to stay with him; and as she had a family I was glad to let her remain.”

“And is she there yet?” asked Aunt Minnie.

“No,” said mistress. “She lived there seven years, and then grandpa went to live on another farm. On the day they moved he put her into a bag to take her to the new house; but, instead of putting her into a closed room until she recovered from the excitement caused by the removal, he opened the bag in the yard, and she ran away as fast as she could.

“Some months later grandpa learned that she had gone back to the old place; for on the morning after the new family moved in, they found her lying in her cheese box, very ill and unable to move, and on that same day she died. She had traveled three miles and crossed a wide creek in order to reach her old home.”

When I heard this story I remembered mistress’ remark on that first morning, that I looked like “Meow,” and it dawned upon me why I was given that name. And having become acquainted with grandpa I was glad to be named after an animal that had given him so much pleasure, and I was more determined than ever to be a good and useful cat. That’s why I never beg when I sit at the table, and very often when mistress has finished I jump from my chair up to her shoulder and kiss her cheek. Sometimes I can hardly wait till she gets through.

But I am very sorry that Meow left grandpa in such a hasty manner, and no doubt the good old man thought she was a poor homeless cat until he heard of her death. I would not be afraid at any place to which Guy or mistress might take me, as long as they were with me.

Having heard the history of Meow, my namesake, Aunt Minnie wanted to know what had become of Old Blackie.

“Old Blackie,” said mistress, “came to a very sad end. During my absence I had my milkman leave milk for her every day, and my butcher brought her meat regularly; I also left a dozen cans of salmon so that Blackie and her kittens could have one every week. After we had been gone about two months, the little girl wrote that Blackie had died, and that she had found homes for all the kittens but one, which she would like to keep herself. Upon my return home I learned that Blackie’s death was due to gangrene poisoning, caused by eating salmon that had been left in the can after opening.”

“This is a very sad ending to a most interesting story,” said Aunt Minnie; and I thought so too. I think we cats ought all to feel very grateful to Old Blackie, because it was she that got mistress interested in cats again, after she had been so long a time without any, and in this I am sure Blackie did all cats a great service.

XVI

MY GREAT SORROW

One evening when we cats had had our usual frolic in the library and bedtime was drawing near, I went to the door, as usual, and gave mistress the look which told her that I wanted to go out. She opened the door in the kindest manner, and as it was a beautiful moonlight night I mounted the fence and went over to Jack’s house, for I had something very important to tell him. I had heard Guy tell mistress that very evening not to let us stay out much evenings, because he had been told that it was the fashion in schools and colleges to dissect cats, so they can see how we are put together. He said that one of the boys had told him that they just go out nights and get any cats they can catch, or that will come to them; and that the majority of cats gathered up in this way are somebody’s pets because they are so much more tame than others, and more easily caught.

When I told this to Jack, it made him very indignant. “The idea of such an outrage perpetrated on us poor unsuspecting cats,” said he. “Where is the Humane Agent? Why don’t he arrest the thieves?”

I told Jack that from what I had heard, one might steal all the cats in Christendom, except the highly favored Angoras and Persians, and he could not be arrested, because the law does not protect cats.

When Jack heard this he could hardly contain himself for anger, and he invited me to go over to his yard and sit on the bench with him, where we could talk the matter over quietly. But just then his mistress called him, and being a very obedient cat, he went right into the house. I went over toward my poplar tree, and as I neared my house I heard my mistress calling me also. But it was such a pleasant evening, the moonlight was so beautiful and the stars shone so brightly, I really could not bear the thought of going in. Even the whetting of the carving knife did not tempt me, and I did not heed my dear mistress’ call. It seems as though I could hear even now that tender voice falling softly on the night air: “Come, Meow, come,” before she finally closed the door. How dearly I paid for my disobedience, I will tell you.

After staying up in the poplar tree awhile, I concluded to go in, but the doors were all shut, and the house was dark. I called at the kitchen door, but nobody heard me, so I crawled into a soap box in which I found an old blanket, put there for me, no doubt, by my thoughtful mistress. But for some reason or other I could not get that dreadful dissecting story off my mind, and while I sat in my box thinking about it, I saw an old black cat,--not Jack--come along on the fence ledge and descend into my yard. I jumped up immediately and asked him what business he had prowling around in my yard at that time of night.

“I am looking for you,” said he, “and I want you to go with me to visit a friend down by the railroad.”

On the whole the cat had quite a distinguished appearance, and I must say I felt somewhat flattered by his attention. Besides that, he was so polite and kind, and I so lonely. Well, to make a long story short, I accepted his invitation.

My companion said we must hurry, as it was a long distance, so we started on our journey at once. We walked to the end of Poplar Avenue, farther than I had walked before in all my life; then we crossed several railroad tracks, and for a short distance we went on the top of a fence inclosing a beautiful yard with trees and shrubs and flowers. Quite a distance from the fence stood a large white mansion, and there my companion alighted and bade me follow him.

“Here is where my friend lives,” said he, “and his name is Cæsar Augustus Napoleon, so you can imagine he is no ordinary cat.”

I felt very proud to think I should soon meet such a distinguished cat, but we had not gone many steps when a very loud bark frightened me, and I saw an enormous bulldog come toward us. I retraced my steps to the fence, and ran away as fast as I could. But I must have gone the wrong way, for I could not find the railroad tracks which we had crossed.

When I had gone far enough to be out of the dog’s reach, I rested for a few minutes, and bethought me what to do. A short distance from the fence was another beautiful mansion, and it looked so inviting in the clear moonlight, I went over on the porch and sat upon the door-mat. There was no dog around to frighten me, so I rested quietly, and was just about ready to doze off into a nap when my black companion came along, limping on three legs, his head bleeding, and one of his eyes completely closed. He had traced me to the porch, and came up and sat down beside me, but said nothing--goodness me, what could he say?--and as I was very tired, I soon fell asleep. When I awoke he had gone, and I felt I was very fortunate to be rid of him, for was he not the cause of all my trouble?

Sad and strange thoughts passed through my mind on that unhappy morning, and I could only hope that the “Kind Providence” that I had so often heard mistress tell about, would be good enough to help even a poor little homeless cat like me.

I stayed on the porch all night, lonely, and shivering with cold. I, who had always been used to sleeping on a nice soft pad or cushion even in the house, there on that cold night had to sleep outdoors on a straw mat. But we must expect sorrow and shame for disobedience. After all my greatest sorrow was caused by the thought of how dreadfully my dear mistress would feel in the morning at not finding me.

If only the dear children who read this story would take warning from my sad experience, and never disobey their parents, I could feel that some good had come out of my great sorrow.

XVII

THE KIND PROVIDENCE

When it was morning, a man came out of the stable door back of the mansion and began sweeping the walks. I started to go away when he came near me, but he called to me in such a kind way, I lingered, though half afraid, for a few moments.

Instead of sweeping the porch where I was sitting, he passed by, only sweeping the steps, talking gently to me as he went along. I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was a kind-hearted man, and when he returned, I followed him into the stable.

There I saw four beautiful horses, each in a clean large stall, and they all looked so happy and self-respecting. One was much darker than the others, and I wondered whether possibly he was the “Black Beauty” I had heard so much about. The man then began to brush and comb the horses, talking to them, and whistling and singing part of the time. When he had finished, he gave them their breakfast of oats and hay. During all this time I sat contentedly in a corner under the manger, quite forgetful of the unhappy night I had passed.

After a while a boy, about Guy’s age and with just such blond, bushy hair, came into the stable, followed by an enormous white and yellow St. Bernard. I was terribly frightened when I saw the dog, but I didn’t let him know it; it isn’t a cat’s way, you know. In a jiffy my back went up, and my tail took on the shape of a jug handle. But the dog didn’t pay a bit of attention to me. He lay down calmly and quietly, and in such a dignified manner. I said to myself “here is a real gentleman.” Gradually I moved a little closer to him, and lay down also. The boy then came over to where I was and said: “Why, kitty, what is your name?”

I said “Meow.”

But he evidently did not understand me, for after a while he said, “Come, Tommie, and see my sister,” and he took me up in his arms and carried me into the house.

There I found a beautiful young lady by the name of Miss Dorothy. She had laughing blue eyes and long golden hair, which hung down her back in a graceful braid, tied at the end with a blue ribbon. There was also Mr. Banks her father, and Miss Beggs, the housekeeper. Arthur--that’s the boy’s name--set me down by the side of his sister, and told her where he had found me.

I am very thankful to the kind Providence that put it into his heart to love animals and to show kindness to a poor little homeless cat like me.

Miss Dorothy took me to the bathroom, where she sponged off my coat and wiped it dry with a towel. Then she gave me a good combing, and tied a fresh ribbon around my neck, for the one that I had on was all soiled and ragged. She did not like the name Tommie, so she called me Tootsie, a name which I trust I never dishonored, during the short time I bore it. Miss Dorothy also put a soft silken cushion at the foot of her bed, and that was my “corner” during all the time I stayed with her.

But my new ribbon came very near causing me serious trouble. Miss Dorothy had tied it so loosely that it was quite uncomfortable. I tried to slip it over my head, and in so doing my lower jaw became caught in it, and I was unable to close my mouth. The worst of it all was, my jaw was caught in such a way that I could not make an outcry or give any alarm. I just tumbled over and over myself in my frantic effort to get the troublesome thing off, and Miss Dorothy looked on, evidently thinking I was playing. Finally I just sank down, exhausted, and then she noticed my trouble, and with the scissors quickly cut the ribbon. After that she tied it more carefully.

I happened to be in the dining-room one day when they were arranging the dinner-table, and as four chairs were placed when there were but three persons to sit down, I concluded that the fourth was for me; so I jumped up next to Miss Dorothy. She seemed very much pleased, and welcomed me with a pat on my back; but Mr. Banks frowned, and said I must not be allowed such liberties. At this Miss Beggs offered to take me out of the room, but Miss Dorothy begged so hard for me to be allowed to stay, Mr. Banks finally consented, saying that if I continued to behave as well as I had so far, he would not object.

“She is no common cat,” said Arthur; “she acts as if she were accustomed to sitting at the table.”

Miss Dorothy gave me a loving look and said, “You are a treasure, Toots.”

Before the meal was quite finished, “Dr. Fogg” was announced, and Miss Dorothy arose from the table saying that she was expecting him for dinner.

Miss Beggs then took me up-stairs, but after dinner I went down to the library, and spent a very pleasant evening with Dr. Fogg and Miss Dorothy.

I had given myself such a vigorous scrubbing while up-stairs that my fur was stuck together in little tufts all over my body; but Miss Dorothy picked me up and smoothed it all out, and put a pretty fresh ribbon around my neck.

Then Dr. Fogg took me for a while, and after he had looked me all over he said I was a good healthy cat.

“How can you tell?” said Miss Dorothy.

“Because her nostrils are cold and moist,” was the reply. “A sick or famished cat has dry, hot nostrils. This cat also has many good points,” added the doctor: “short nose, short thick tail, short round ears and soft silken fur.”

“You are a lover of cats, I take it, or you would not be so well versed in cat-lore,” said Miss Dorothy, with evident pleasure.

“You would think so if you could see my Remus,” replied the doctor, the while gently stroking my back. “I wouldn’t part with him for a fortune. Better than any medicine to a restless overworked mind is a sleek healthy cat for a bed-fellow, for the electricity with which his fur is charged will induce sleep when all other means fail.”

“How perfectly wonderful,” said Miss Dorothy. “I must get one for papa. Where did you get Remus?”

“Remus,” said the doctor, “was one of a pair of black kittens that belonged to old Black Betty at the college. Betty had the mange several times, but the students always cured her by rubbing her sores with a mixture of lard and sulphur, which she would immediately lick off. During her last attack, however, she seemed to have a presentiment that her hour had come. One morning, while my father was lecturing to the students, Betty brought in one of her kittens, laid it at his feet, looked up into his face and mewed. Then she went and fetched the other, and repeated the same action, after which she returned to her basket, and ten minutes later the janitor found her dead. Father regarded those kittens as a sacred trust, and insisted that both be kept in our house; so sister appropriated one, and I the other; and this is how I came into possession of Remus.”

When the doctor began to talk about the things that they did at the college, I expected to hear quite a different story. I am glad now to know that they do some other things for cats in colleges besides dissecting them.

“By the way,” said Miss Dorothy, “I read in to-day’s paper that in some place where diphtheria is raging, all the cats have been killed because it is supposed that they spread the disease. And in another place where the smallpox has broken out, the health officer proposes that it is necessary to kill off all the stray and homeless cats and dogs before the disease can be stamped out. What do you think of that?”

“Nonsense,” said the doctor. “Everything that lives, from a fly to an elephant, is liable to carry germs, and one of the most prolific conductors of germs is the rat; so you see that even the persecuted alley cat has a reason for her existence. Indeed, the congested districts of a large city would be uninhabitable, and we would see the scenes of the famous mouse tower enacted over again, were it not for the services of this much maligned and misunderstood creature.”

“It seems to me,” said Miss Dorothy, “if there were anything in this theory about cats and dogs spreading smallpox, for instance, they would themselves be subject to the disease. But whoever heard of a cat or dog dying of smallpox, or even being afflicted with it?”

“I am sure I never did,” replied the doctor.

As for me, the things to which I had been listening filled me with astonishment and indignation, and I retired to my corner on Miss Dorothy’s bed to think matters over. Would that there were more such kind-hearted people to speak for the defenseless as Miss Dorothy and the doctor.

But I must return to my story. Bernie, the dog, was a noble, dignified animal, and not the least bit jealous of the attention that was being paid to me. Often when I was out in the yard, he would invite me to lie beside him in the sunshine, and when I did so he would put his head down close to mine and look into my eyes, just as if he wanted to tell me something real nice. His coat was always clean and fluffy, because he had a bath regularly once a week, and his “corner” was in the rear hall, where he had a white fur rug for his resting-place. But he spent most of his time outside with Arthur and the coachman.

During the first day or two at Miss Dorothy’s I really suffered hunger, although I was in the midst of plenty, for the cook never thought of giving me a morsel of anything. She would throw the nicest tidbits of meat and fish that came from the table right into the garbage can, and let me hunt for food the best way I could. Of course, I was not used to eating out of garbage cans, and really, I’d starve rather than do such a vulgar thing. After a few days of such scanty fare as I could get by catching flies and grasshoppers, I jumped up on the pantry table one morning to see if I couldn’t find something more substantial, and what should I see there but a great big fish. I grabbed him by the tail and jumped down, but the fish got to the floor before I did. I then took hold of him and pulled him over to the cellar door, and was just starting down the stairs to take him to a quiet place, where I could have my feast undisturbed, when the cook came in.

“Faith an’ I knowed all the time ye was a thief,” said she, jerking my treasure away from me; and then she called Miss Dorothy in to see what her new pet was up to. Miss Dorothy took me up in her arms, but did not say one unpleasant word to me. She knew that no respectable cat would steal, unless actually driven to it. She asked the cook when I was last fed, and upon learning that no one had paid any attention to me in the way of food, she told Miss Beggs to see that I was properly cared for at every meal thereafter, and after that I fared better. Miss Beggs would gather up the choicest little remnants of meat or chicken or fish on the plates, and mix them with a little mashed potato or rice in such a way that it made the daintiest meal for me.

So you see the kind Providence did take care of me, even though I am only a cat.

XVIII

A WELCOME VISITOR

Miss Dorothy had many lovely neighbors, but the one I liked best of all was Mrs. Stevens. One day when the two ladies were visiting, I happened to be in the room, and Miss Dorothy told Mrs. Stevens how I had come to her a homeless little stranger. Mrs. Stevens said that her children had been wanting a little kitty for a long time, but that she had never allowed them to have one till Mrs. Cotton persuaded her to do so.

When I heard the name of Mrs. Cotton, I was so overjoyed, I jumped on the floor and turned several somersaults, and Mrs. Stevens laughed heartily at my antics.

One day while napping on my cushion, I was awakened by a familiar voice in Miss Dorothy’s room. It was a lady, and she asked Miss Dorothy if she could take charge of the Band of Mercy for a while, as Miss Wallace the leader, had been called away.

Of course having heard the story of Beautiful Joe, I know all about the Band of Mercy. It is a place where little boys and girls sing and speak lovely pieces. Here is one I heard Guy read to his mother from “Dumb Animals:”

Three little kittens, so downy and soft,
Were cuddled up by the fire,
And two little children were sleeping aloft,
As cozy as heart could desire;
Dreaming of something ever so nice,
Dolls and sugar-plums, rats and mice.

The night wore on, and the mistress said,
“I’m sleepy, I must confess,
And as kitties and babies are safe in bed,
I’ll go to bed too, I guess.”
She went up-stairs, just a story higher,
While the kittens slept by the kitchen fire.

“What noise can that be?” the mistress said.
“Meow! meow!” “I’m afraid
A poor kitty-cat’s fallen out of bed!
The nice little nest I made!”
“Meow! meow!” “Dear me! dear me!
I wonder what can the matter be!”

The mistress paused on an upper stair,
For, what did she see below?
But three little kittens, with frightened air,
Standing up in a row!
With six little paws on the step above,
And no mother cat to caress or love!

Through the kitchen door came a cloud of smoke!
The mistress, in great alarm,
To a sense of danger straightway awoke:
Her babies might come to harm.
On the kitchen hearth, to her great amaze,
Was a basket of shavings beginning to blaze.

The three little kittens were hugged and kissed,
And promised many a mouse;
While their names were put upon honor’s list,
For hadn’t they saved a house?
And two little children were gathered tight
To their mother’s heart ere she slept that night.

The mention of the Band of Mercy brought to my mind little Willie Cotton, and instantly it dawned upon me that the strange lady was Willie’s mother. Mrs. Cotton carried a bunch of delicious sweet violets, as usual.

“I will be most happy to do anything I can for Miss Wallace,” said Miss Dorothy, “and if you think I am able to lead the Band, it will give me great pleasure to do so.”

While Miss Dorothy was speaking I got up from my cushion, and jumped into her lap, but Mrs. Cotton did not seem to notice me at all; she was so interested in the Band of Mercy. Then, although I knew it was very rude to do so, I jumped over on Mrs. Cotton’s lap. I felt that I must in some way attract her attention. Mrs. Cotton petted me a little, so I climbed up to her face and kissed her nose. At this Mrs. Cotton seemed to take alarm. Perhaps she thought I was on the way up to her hat again; but I wasn’t, for the birdies had all flown away.

“What an affectionate little creature,” said she, holding me firmly in her lap. “Where did you get this cat?”

“She came to us a couple of weeks ago,” said Miss Dorothy, “and made herself so thoroughly agreeable that I have had her as my constant companion ever since.”

Mrs. Cotton looked at me more closely and said, “She looks like a cat that my neighbor, Mrs. Paxton has lost, and she has been very unhappy over it; only a few days ago she said she still hoped to find her again.”

Miss Dorothy looked very sad. “Is there any way by which you could prove that this is Mrs. Paxton’s cat?” said she, “for, if she is, I want to return her.”

Mrs. Cotton put her hand to her forehead evidently trying to recall my name, when I cried out “meow.”

“Oh, ‘Meow’! that was the cat’s name. Meow! Meow!”

At the sound of my name I could hardly contain myself. I kissed Mrs. Cotton’s cheek many times, and then, seeing Miss Dorothy looked sad, I went over and kissed her too.

“I believe you are right,” said Miss Dorothy, “and if Tootsie belongs to Mrs. Paxton, she shall have her back. I named her after Miss Willard’s cat because she seemed so well-bred and so dignified.”

“Mrs. Paxton will be delighted to see you,” said Mrs. Cotton, “for I feel quite sure that this is her cat.”

“We shall all be very sorry to give her up,” said Miss Dorothy, as she accompanied Mrs. Cotton to the door.

At the dinner-table Miss Dorothy told her father and Arthur what Mrs. Cotton had told her.

“There is only one thing to do, daughter,” said Mr. Banks.

“Yes,” said Miss Dorothy, “I am going to take her over to-day.”

Then I knew that that would be my last day at Miss Dorothy’s, and wishing to give my dear mistress all the pleasure I could, I immediately set to washing myself and smoothing my fur.

To be sure I felt sad to leave my new friends who had been so very kind to me, still I was overjoyed thinking of the happiness it would give my mistress to find me again.

XIX

A JOYFUL REUNION

Soon after dinner that same day the carriage drove up to the side entrance, and Miss Dorothy wrapped me in a small blanket and took me away with her.

She held me on her lap all the way and said loving words, telling me how she would miss me if I belonged to the other lady. My head was out of the blanket so I could see where we were going.

After a short drive on a beautiful avenue we turned down a quiet side street, and there, to my great delight, I saw the long row of poplar trees so dear to me. They seemed like so many old friends, standing there to welcome me home. Another familiar sight was Eddie riding his velocipede, and when next I saw Jack seated on his window-sill, I knew that we must be getting close to Number 127.

Presently the carriage stopped and Miss Dorothy alighted, leaving me on the seat in care of the good, kind coachman. In a few minutes, which seemed hours to me, Miss Dorothy returned to fetch me into the house. My dear mistress met me at the door, and the moment she saw me she said, “Meow, why did you leave me?” at the same time taking me out of Miss Dorothy’s arms. I climbed up to her face and covered her cheeks with kisses.

Poor Miss Dorothy watched me very closely, but after such a greeting she could have no doubt that I was the lost Meow.

“I am sorry to take her from you,” said mistress, “for you must have become attached to her if you have had her all this time.”

“Yes,” said Miss Dorothy, “she has been a most agreeable companion; I shall miss her sorely.”

Then the ladies chatted for a few minutes, Miss Dorothy telling mistress how I was found by her coachman, and mistress telling her when I disappeared; and as the two dates were only one day apart, both rejoiced that I had been fortunate enough to find a new home so soon.

“I will see that you get one in her place,” said mistress, trying to console poor Miss Dorothy, as she arose to go; and I went on the window-sill to see the carriage roll away.

The next thing I did was to look around for my companions, Budge and Toddy. On entering the library I saw upon the table a vase of beautiful flowers, and Budge and Toddy up there walking around the vase, admiring the flowers, and smelling them. I went up to them but they did not seem to remember me, and acted rather uppish--I mean with their backs. But after a while they recognized me as their former playmate, and their backs went down. Of course they wanted to know all about my absence, and they told me of all the searching that had been done, and how mistress would go out in the yard day after day and call for me.

“Even Dennis was hunting for you all over the neighborhood,” said Toddy.

“And Jack came over every day,” said Budge, “to inquire whether you had returned.”

When it got to be time for the children to come from school, I went to the window to watch for Guy. But after all the children had passed by, and he did not come, I went to his room.

There I found a strange lady dressed in blue, and wearing a white cap and apron, and somebody was lying in Guy’s bed. I jumped up on the bed, as I had often done, and saw that it was Guy; but he looked so pale and thin, and to my great surprise, he took no notice of me. The house was very still, and everybody spoke in a whisper; I could not understand what it all meant.

During the afternoon a very tall gentleman called, with a hand bag. They called him “Doctor.” I heard him talk to the strange lady about “temperature” and “quinine” and “hot compress” and other things that I had never heard of before.

At supper-time Dennis came in and I went up to him and looked into his eyes. He put his nose down close to mine and gave a soft low growl; perhaps he was scolding me for having stayed away so long. Early the next morning I scampered over to Jack’s house. I found him seated on the ledge of the fence, intently watching the ash box, but as soon as he saw me he came to meet me.

“Where have you been?” said he, joyfully, as he rubbed his side up against me in the most friendly fashion. “I never expected to see you again, for I was afraid some of those dreadful college boys had got hold of you.”

At this moment Jack’s mistress came out into the yard, and when she saw me she too seemed delighted, and to fitly celebrate my return, she brought out the song box and made it play “The Cat Came Back.”

Of course, I had to give Jack an account of how I happened to disappear so suddenly, and when I told him about my black companion and that woeful night he expressed great surprise.

“That explains Nig’s absence,” said he. “His people, the Mortons, have missed him for several weeks. I don’t blame him for leaving, because they made him stay outdoors on the coldest nights; and they gave him his food in an old tin pan big enough to water a horse with; and his usual fare was plain boiled potatoes, or oat meal mush.”

I told Jack the condition Nig was in when I last saw him, but he said that was nothing unusual for Nig, and that he had often seen him with both eyes closed after a night’s outing.

It was many weeks before Guy went to school again, and as soon as he was able to be up, the nurse permitted me to stay in his room all the time; so I spent many pleasant days with him. He told me about a big Maltese cat that came to the house just before he was taken ill, and how they took her in and fed her as long as she stayed, because they wanted to do by her as they hoped some one was doing by me. I hope the kind Providence helped her to find her home again.

As soon as Guy was strong enough, the nurse taught him how to knit, and he was trying to make a pair of slippers to surprise his mother on her birthday. Oh! the fun I used to have playing with that ball of yarn. Often when it was wound around me, Guy would have to straighten it out before he could go on with his knitting. But once it came near costing me my life. The nurse was out on an errand at the time and Guy had dozed off to sleep, so I concluded to go down-stairs and get a little fresh air. But when I had gone half-way down the stairs something began pulling me back. Harder and harder I jerked, and harder and harder it pulled, till it finally broke and I got away. The yarn was wound around my neck so many times, it seemed like a rope, and I was gasping for breath at the foot of the stairs, when the nurse came in. She quickly cut it with the scissors, or I fear I should never have lived to tell the story of my happy home-coming.

XX

A NEW HOME

As soon as Guy was well again, he and mistress began to pack boxes and trunks, as if getting ready for another journey; and sure enough, one pleasant day as I sat on the window-sill, a big moving van drove up in front of our house.

As soon as mistress saw it she took us cats up to the attic, where we stayed the rest of the day. We looked out of the window, and saw one thing after another carried out of the house, and really we wondered with some misgivings as to what was happening to our dear home; even our basket had been put into the wagon. As we sat thinking these sad thoughts, and wondering what was going to be done with us, Guy came in with a big covered willow basket. He placed us inside of it, closed the cover, fastened it, and took us down-stairs and handed us to the driver. Then he too mounted the wagon, seating himself in front with the driver. I was so glad to see him go with us, and he kept our basket close by his side so that I could see him through the cracks in the basket, and could hear his voice. The rumbling of the wheels was not very pleasant to listen to, and Budge and Toddy were terribly frightened; you see they had never traveled, as I had, and didn’t know what it all meant.

But our journey was very short. We stopped in front of a little white house with vine-covered verandas, where Guy jumped down and took us in, and mistress was there to welcome us. She took us at once up to the attic, and when we emerged from the basket, what should we find but our pads spread out in the sun with a saucer of milk by the side of them. There we stayed until morning, but we did not sleep very much; why? There were too many cozy nooks and corners to explore, and besides that, Toddy said he saw a mouse poke her head above a little hole, and we all watched the hole with him. But I am half afraid the mouse must have seen us, for she took care not to return.

In the morning Guy called us down-stairs and showed us all around the premises, and we were delighted to find such a large green yard with shrubs and trees. In front of the house were three big maples, where we could climb up in case of danger from big dogs.

When we entered the house, we found our dear basket and cushions in a cozy corner of the library, and it just seemed as though 127 Poplar Avenue had been carried down bodily in the moving van. Off mistress’ room was a delightful veranda and it was just the nicest place for us cats, because it used to make the dogs so furious to see us where they could not chase us. Mistress put one of our pads on the veranda, and in very warm weather we stayed out there all night. Budge used to go to sleep on the railing, and it was a common thing to hear his cry down below in the early morning. But the tumble didn’t seem to do him any harm.

On the very next day after we had moved, I was sitting on the window-sill in Guy’s room, looking down into the yard. On top of the board fence separating our yard from our neighbor’s was a big yellow cat, and below on the lawn stood a small white and yellow dog whom they called “Jip.”

“Those are some of our new neighbors,” said mistress, “and we will see if we can get on good terms with them.”

With that she raised the window, and threw out some raw beef. The cat jumped off the fence, and she and the dog both ran for the meat. Mistress threw down several more pieces, and when it ceased to come dropping down, both looked up very wistfully.

About this time another cat appeared, a weak, sickly little creature, looking timorous, and very unhappy. I felt sure that mistress’ heart would be touched at sight of her. The cat and dog had eaten all the meat, so mistress gave some to Guy to take to the little kitty. But she was afraid of him and would not come near, although she seemed very hungry. So Guy took a piece of the meat and threw it to the kitty, at a little distance, and she devoured it most greedily. Then he threw another piece not quite so far, and she came and got that. By throwing each piece a shorter distance, the kitty at last came close enough to Guy to take it out of his hand.

While Guy was feeding the kitty he inquired of a little boy in the next yard if he knew to whom the dog and cats belonged.

“The yellow ones belong to us,” said the boy, “and the little kitty has no home at all; she belonged to the people that moved away.”

At this mistress went quickly down the stairs, and when I next saw her, she had captured the timorous creature, and the two were holding a friendly chat in the garden. After that Guy made the little waif a comfortable bed in the basement, and mistress gave her the name of “Daisy,” while Guy named the yellow cat “Buttercup.”

Maple Road down our way was richly blessed with children in those days, so much so that the boys called it “Youngsters’ Boulevard.” And they were all such dear children.

On our right was Charlie Watt, and on our left were the Moody children, Marie, Anita, Madeline and Charlie. On the opposite side of the street were Florence and Lee Harrison, and a little way down the street were our friends Don and Winifred, whose pictures we had often seen above the bookcase.

Often when mistress went over to Winifred’s house, Toddy and I followed her, and we used to play with Winifred and Katy--her dolly. Budge is too bashful to go out in company, so he usually stayed under the porch till we returned. I guess this is why Guy called him the “Home Guard.”

Very often Winifred came to visit us. But she never ran after us nor mauled us around as children are so apt to do. She would sit down on our cushion and wait till we went and sat by her side. This is why we all like her so well. If all children would do this, it would be much more pleasant for us to live with them.

I cannot tell you how much I would like to see Jack and Dennis, but since I have found so many lovely friends in our new home, I don’t miss them as much as I did at first.

XXI

OUR WINGED FRIENDS

We soon discovered that cats and dogs were not our only new neighbors on Maple Road, for one morning early we noticed a pair of robins flitting around the upper piazza. It was plain that they had come to stay for a while at least, for they were building a nest among the vines, and they had it nearly completed. The nest was about half-way between the two posts. If it had only been at the post, we cats could have seen what was inside of it.

Two little red-breasted robins were flying back and forth, fetching all sorts of things in their beaks; straw and strings and moss and grass, which they twined around in the most curious fashion. One would step inside and pat it down with his breast, while the other went after more stuff. At one time one of them brought a black rag, which they both looked at, and chattered over a great deal, but evidently concluded not to use for they dropped it on the ground. Then, in her endeavor to help the robins mistress carried out a loose wad of cut worsted and placed it near the nest, but they did not make use of that either. Evidently they knew what they needed better than anybody else, in the building of their little home.

A day or two after the nest was finished, Guy stepped on a chair and looked inside, and found one little blue egg in it. After this mistress and Guy were very careful not to go on the piazza while the robins were in the nest, for fear they would be frightened, and would desert their eggs.

About three days later Guy looked again into the nest, and saw two eggs in it; and a week later when he looked again, there were four.

After the four eggs were laid, one of the robins stayed on the nest nearly all the time, the other one coming many times during the day, always bringing his mate something to eat. Mistress named them Robert and Rena.

We cats wanted to go out on the piazza the worst way during those days, but the door was always shut.

Sometimes when both robins were away, mistress or Guy would go on the piazza and scatter bread crumbs, but the naughty little sparrows would come and take them away from the robins.

It was very hard for me to be a good cat in those days, especially when mistress would be standing inside the screen door, and Robert on the flower box answering her call. She would say “Pretty Robbie” and he would say, “Take care”--I suppose he meant by that she should take care not to let any harm come to his little mate. But just as soon as mistress opened the door, he would fly on the neighboring roof and scold very hard till she shut the door again.

Sometimes when I sat on the window-sill behind the glass pane, Robert would come just as close to me as he could, talking bird-talk to me. I think he said: “You can’t catch me,” for he seemed to think the screen or the window-pane made the porch railing a very safe place for him.

Robert and Rena seemed to have it all understood between them how their housekeeping was to be managed. Robert continued very faithfully to bring food to Rena, and occasionally she would fly out for a little exercise, Robert staying in the nest till she returned.

After a time we began to hear very queer sounds coming from the piazza, and a great commotion seemed to be going on in the little nest. Tiny beaks could be seen, reaching above the edge, and Papa Robert seemed to be busier than ever. He would bring so much food at a time that the worms and insects could be seen dangling on each side of his beak. Sometimes he gave it to Rena, and she would chew it up and drop a portion into each little beak while he went off for more; and sometimes he would feed the little ones himself.

They say that accidents happen even in the best regulated households, so it’s not surprising that they came near having one in Robert’s family. I was sitting on the window-sill, and Rena was standing on the flower box chatting with mistress who stood just inside the door. The screen door happened to be unfastened and Toddy forced it open without mistress noticing it. So swiftly did he dart upon the flower box, that he nearly toppled over, and poor Rena just barely escaped his claws.

As soon as Rena reached a safe distance in the maple tree, she turned to Toddy and gave him a dreadful scolding. “You ugly cat,” said she, “aren’t you ashamed to think of robbing my poor little babies of their mother? You are more cruel than the horrid huntermen who shoot poor birds with their guns; because they wouldn’t think of coming in babytime.” Toddy was evidently very much ashamed, for he sneaked into the house and went straight to his basket, and didn’t show his face again that day.

If I had had Toddy’s chance of getting out onto the porch, I should have done quite differently. I would have climbed up on the wire netting and the vines to the nest where the little birdies were, because they couldn’t fly away. Oh, what a feast that would have been--four birds, one after the other. It sets my teeth on edge to think of it.

One afternoon, when both the robins happened to be away, mistress went on the piazza to await their return.

Rena came first, and perched on the neighboring housetop, chatting with mistress, although I think it sounded more as if she were scolding. Gradually she came nearer the piazza, and finally perched on the vines opposite the nest. But although her poor little babies cried most piteously, she would not go near them. But when mistress went into the house, hardly had she shut the door, when Rena flew to the nest and began feeding her babies.

That evening a gentleman called upon Aunt Minnie, who was visiting us, and Mistress told him about the queer conduct of Rena.

“That’s easily explained,” said the gentleman: “Robins are noted for concealing their young, although they will build their nests in the most frequented places. If you will take notice after the young are hatched, there will not be a sign of the shells lying around, neither will you find any in the nest after they leave, for they carry them all away.”

“Do you think they will come again next year?” inquired mistress.

“They may if left to themselves, and their nest not tampered with in the meantime,” said the gentleman.