A CAT IN A STRANGE GARRET
There were others who felt as if they were in a strange garret, after
the moving, besides the cat. The children's mother was very homesick,
for she was tired out; and she felt sad and lonely in the small house
where her husband had never lived. The children did not mind so much,
but it was strange, when they waked in the morning, to see the
unfamiliar stretch of pasture from their window instead of the garden
and the next house.
But Pussy minded it so much that she slipped out while the others were
having their breakfast. They were all so busy that no one missed her
until dinnertime, and then Peggy and Alice looked everywhere in the
small house and they called "Lady Jane" many times, but no little furry,
gray pussy answered.
Their grandmother had gone back to New York and their mother was too
busy getting settled to hunt for the cat.
"She'll come back when she gets hungry," she said. "I want you children
to help me unpack. See these nice drawers for the linen."
"I don't think they are half so nice as the linen closet in the other
house," said Alice.
"Now, children," said their mother, "no one ever said this house was so
nice as the large one where you were born, and we can't pretend life is
so pleasant as if we had your father here with us; but we have a great
deal to be thankful for. If we haven't much money, we have health and
strength and each other. Your father said to me when he went away:
'Mary, if I don't come back, I don't want you and the children ever to
forget me, but I want you to remember all the happy times we have had
together, and to think how glad I'd be of all the happy times you'd have
by yourselves.'"
The children got very much interested in arranging the linen in the
drawers.
"Oh, Peggy, you are no housekeeper; the pillowcases don't go in that
drawer," said her mother. "See how carefully Alice puts the towels in."
Alice smiled and showed her dimples, and Peggy stopped and gave Alice a
hug.
"Things seem just to slide out of my hands," said Peggy; "and I can't
remember which drawer the things go in."
There was a cupboard where Alice's dolls were to live, and it interested
her greatly to get this apartment ready for them. So they all again
forgot about Lady Jane Grey until supper-time. Their mother put bowls of
milk on the table for the children, with plenty of bread and jam; and
there was a big saucer of milk for Lady Jane, warmed just the way she
liked it. Again they called her, but she did not come. Peggy made a
trip down cellar, thinking she might have hidden there, and she hunted
the house from top to bottom, but there was no dainty Lady Jane to be
seen.
"She'll come back sometime," said their mother; but the children were
not so sure of this.
It seemed sad to go to bed without knowing what fate had befallen Lady
Jane; but their mother was sure she would come back that night.
In the morning Peggy ran downstairs eagerly before she was dressed.
"Has she come, mother?" she asked.
"Has who come?" said her mother, whose mind was on starting the kitchen
fire.
"Lady Jane."
"No, she hasn't come."
"And it is so wet," said Peggy, as she looked at the falling rain;
"she'll get drenched without any rubbers or raincoat."
"You can be sure she is under shelter somewhere. A cat can always look
out for herself."
"But, mother, I'm worried about her."
"I think," said Mrs. Owen, as she put the oatmeal into the
double-boiler, "that she has gone back to her old home."
"But, mother dear, she couldn't like strange people better than she
likes us!"
"Cats are strange creatures," said Mrs. Owen. "Run along and get
dressed. After breakfast if the rain holds up you and Alice can run over
to the Hortons' house and telephone to the Carters', to see if she is
there. I shall be glad when we get our telephone in."
The rain did not stop, but the children were so persistent that after
breakfast Mrs. Owen let them put on their rubbers and raincoats and run
over to the Hortons' house. The house was up a long avenue of trees. On
this March day there were no leaves on the trees, and the bare branches
looked black against the gray sky as they were tossed about by the wind.
There were patches of snow by the side of the road. It all looked very
dismal, for the house was closed, as the family did not come back until
June, and only the care-takers were living in the back part of the
house. It was where Clara lived in the summer. She was the children's
most intimate friend. She was a little more than a year younger than
Peggy and about a year older than Alice. The children went around to the
back door and asked if they could come in and telephone.
"It is something very important or we would not have come," said Peggy.
"I hope your mother isn't sick," said Mrs. Jones.
"No, it is about the cat."
"And you came out in all this rain about a cat?"
"She's as dear to us as if she was our child," said Alice.
"Well, I never!" said Mrs. Jones, as she led the way to the telephone
room.
Peggy called up their old number. It made her a little homesick as she
did so.
"Is Mrs. Carter there?" she asked as a shrill voice said "Hullo."
"It's a boy's voice," said Peggy. "There's one boy in the family. I'm
glad of that."
She heard the boy call "Mother," and presently Mrs. Carter came to the
telephone.
"Hullo," said Mrs. Carter, in a warm voice that Peggy liked.
"I'm Peggy Owen. Mother said I might come over and telephone you about
the cat. She's lost--I mean the cat. We thought she might be at your
house. She doesn't seem to like ours. Have you seen anything of a gray
pussy with dark gray stripes?"
"I really don't know whether that one has been around or not. I'll ask
them in the kitchen. We've been feeding a lot of stray cats."
"You didn't say enough about the way she looks. She may get her mixed
with the gray tramp cat," said Alice, taking the telephone from Peggy.
"She's two shades of gray," she said to Mrs. Carter. "Such lovely dark
stripes and then light ones; and there are thirteen stripes on her
tail--first a dark and then a light, and so on; and her eyes are the
shiniest things--most as bright as lights, only they are a kind of
green; and she has a purr you can hear all across the room. Her name is
Lady Jane, and she'll come for it."
Mrs. Carter came back to the telephone presently. "There has been a gray
cat around," she said, "but she isn't here now. If she comes back I'll
send one of the boys up with her."
"One of the boys," said Peggy to Alice, "so there must be two anyhow."
The day passed and nothing was heard of the cat, and once more the
little girls had to go to bed with anxious hearts. It was still raining
when the children waked up the next morning, and no pussy had yet
appeared. They wanted to go back and hunt for her themselves, but it was
too wet for so long a tramp, and, besides, Mrs. Owen was sure Mrs.
Carter was too busy getting settled in her new house to want visitors.
"You don't seem a bit worried about Lady Jane, mother," said Peggy.
"I have a few other things to think about, and I am sure she is all
right."
It was a three days' storm, and it was so wet on Sunday that they did
not go to church or Sunday School. The day seemed very long. They helped
their mother get dinner and they washed and wiped the inside dishes for
her. They both liked to wash better than to wipe--it was such fun to
splash the mop about in the soapy water.
"It is my turn to wash to-day," Alice reminded Peggy.
"But you are so slow," said Peggy. "I can do it a lot faster. However,
it is your turn," she said, handing the mop to Alice with a little sigh.
It was toward the end of the afternoon and they were beginning to get
tired of reading when the door bell rang.
"It is our first caller; go to the door, Peggy," said Mrs. Owen.
Alice followed Peggy as she ran to the door. As Peggy opened it, a sweep
of wind and a swirl of rain came in. The wind was so strong it almost
blew the door to. A freckled-faced boy with a pleasant smile and honest
blue eyes was standing on the doorstep. Oh, joy! He had a basket in his
hand.
"It's some rain," said the boy.
"Oh, have you got our cat in that basket?" Peggy asked.
"Now, what do you know about that!" said the boy. "Why should I know
anything about your cat? Maybe I have cabbages in this basket."
"Cabbages wouldn't mew," said Peggy, as the occupant of the basket gave
a long wail.
"It's our cat, I know her voice!" cried Alice in delight.
"Won't you come in and see mother?" Peggy asked, as the boy stepped
inside the small entry and put his basket down.
"Can't stop." He had pulled his cap off politely when he came into the
house, and Peggy saw that his hair was as yellow as her own. She wished
hers might have been cropped as short.
"Oh, dear! what fun boys had! They could go out on the rainiest days."
The boy touched his cap and went quickly down the walk. Peggy's glance
followed him regretfully. He was a big boy; he must be two years older
than she was, just a nice size to play with.
"And we never asked him his name or if he had brothers and sisters,"
Alice said.
It was a lost opportunity and the children both regretted it, but they
had been too much taken up with the return of Lady Jane to think of
anything else at the moment. They had opened the basket and Lady Jane
was purring about the place.
"You darling!" Alice cried as she stroked her gray striped coat. "You do
like us best, don't you, after all?"
There was an odd expression in Lady Jane's green eyes. If she could have
spoken, she would have said, "I like old friends, but I do like old
places better still." And the very next morning she disappeared again.