Produced by Joe and Grace Longo
THE TALE OF
MISS KITTY CAT
_SLUMBER-TOWN TALES_
(Trademark Registered)
BY
ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY
AUTHOR OF
_SLEEPY-TIME TALES_
(Trademark Registered)
_TUCK-ME-IN TALES_
(Trademark Registered)
BY
ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY
THE TALE OF THE MULEY COW
THE TALE OF OLD DOG SPOT
THE TALE OF GRUNTY PIG
THE TALE OF HENRIETTA HEN
THE TALE OF TURKEY PROUDFOOT
THE TALE OF PONY TWINKLEHEELS
THE TALE OF MISS KITTY CAT
[Illustration: Miss Kitty Cat Chased Old Dog Spot. _Frontispiece_]
_SLUMBER-TOWN TALES_
(Trademark Registered)
THE TALE OF
MISS KITTY CAT
BY
ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY
Author of
"SLEEPY-TIME TALES"
(Trademark Registered)
AND
"TUCK-ME-IN TALES"
(Trademark Registered)
ILLUSTRATED BY
HARRY L. SMITH
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
Made in the United States of America
COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY
GROSSET & DUNLAP
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I A TERRIBLE PERSON
II DOG SPOT'S PLANS
III CHASING MISS KITTY
IV A TENDER NOSE
V SPOTS AND SPECKLES
VI BEECHNUT SHUCKS
VII TWO IN A TREE
VIII NINE LIVES
IX THE STOLEN CREAM
X A CREAMY FACE
XI THE WRENS' HOME
XII JOLLY ROBIN'S NEWS
XIII AN UNWELCOME GUEST
XIV CATCALLS
XV MOUSETRAPS
XVI A MIDNIGHT MEAL
XVII THE EAVESDROPPER
XVIII KIDNAPPED
XX STRANGE QUARTERS
XXI A LONG JOURNEY
XXII IN THE PANTRY
XXIV THE FLOUR BARREL
XXV A SECRET
XXIV FIVE IN A BASKET
ILLUSTRATIONS
MISS KITTY CAT CHASED OLD DOG SPOT
_Frontispiece_
MISS KITTY CAT LOOKED CALMLY AT RUSTY WREN
MISS KITTY CAT SEES MOSES MOUSE
BALANCE A BIT OF CHEESE ON HIS NOSE
MISS KITTY CAT GUARDS HER KITTENS
THE TALE OF MISS KITTY CAT
I
A TERRIBLE PERSON
THE rats and the mice thought that Miss Kitty Cat was a terrible person.
She was altogether too fond of hunting them. They agreed, however, that
in one way it was pleasant to have her about the farmhouse. When she
washed her face, while sitting on the doorsteps, they knew--so they
said!--that it was going to rain. And then Mrs. Rat never would let her
husband leave home without taking his umbrella.
As a rule Miss Kitty Cat didn't look at all frightful. Almost always she
appeared quite unruffled, going about her business in a quiet way and
making no fuss over anything. Of course when old dog Spot chased--and
cornered--her, she was quite a different sort of creature. Then she
arched her back, puffed her tail out to twice its usual size, and spat
fiercely at Spot. He learned not to get within reach of her sharp claws,
when she behaved in that fashion. For old Spot had a tender nose. And no
one knew it better than Miss Kitty Cat.
Around the farmhouse she was politeness itself--when there was anybody
to observe her. If her meals were late she never clamored, as Johnnie
Green sometimes did. To be sure, she might remind Mrs. Green gently, by
plaintive mewing, that she had not had her saucer of milk. But she was
always careful not to be rude about it. And though Miss Kitty liked a
warm place in winter, she never crowded anybody else away from the fire.
She crept under the kitchen range, where no one else cared to sit. And
there she would doze by the hour--especially after she had enjoyed a
hearty meal.
On summer nights, however, when she loved to hunt out of doors, Miss
Kitty Cat was far from appearing sleepy. She roamed about the fields, or
crept through the tree-tops with a stealthy tread and a tigerish working
of her tail. Folk smaller than Miss Kitty never cared to meet her at
such times. They knew that she would spring upon them if she had a
chance. So they took good care to keep out of her way. And if they
caught sight of her when she had her hunting manner they always gave
the alarm in their own fashion, warning their friends to beware of the
monster Miss Kitty Cat, because she was abroad and in a dangerous mood.
Johnnie Green liked Miss Kitty. Often she would come to him and rub
against him and purr, fairly begging him to stroke her back. Unless he
pulled her tail at such times she kept her claws carefully out of sight
and basked under Johnnie's petting.
If he had been her size and she had been his, Miss Kitty Cat might not
have been so harmless. She might have played with Johnnie, as she
sometimes played with a mouse. But Johnnie Green never stopped to think
of anything like that. And if he had, he would have thought it a great
joke. He would have laughed at the idea of Miss Kitty Cat holding him
beneath her paw.
II
DOG SPOT'S PLANS
SOMEHOW old dog Spot and Miss Kitty Cat never became good friends. By
the time Miss Kitty Cat arrived on the farm in Pleasant Valley Spot had
lived there several years.
From the first day he met Miss Kitty in the kitchen Spot hadn't liked
her. Yet he claimed at the time that he was glad to see her. He said
that he could tell at once that he was going to have great sport with
her. He knew it would be fun to chase her!
Inside the farmhouse old Spot was careful how he behaved. The moment
Miss Kitty first set eyes on him she scurried under the table, where
she crouched and glared at him. That was scarcely what you might call a
friendly greeting. And Spot would have barked at her had he dared.
Since he didn't, he only whined a bit through his nose. You couldn't
have told what he meant by the sound.
Miss Kitty Cat didn't like his whining. She even opened her mouth wide
and said as much. She made an odd hissing noise, which amused old Spot
greatly. And he told Miss Kitty, in what was almost a growl (except that
it wasn't loud enough for one), "Wait till I catch you out of doors, my
lady! I'll have some fun with you."
Then Farmer Green's wife opened the door and told Spot to be gone.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself--" she scolded--"teasing a poor
little cat!"
Old dog Spot tucked his tail between his legs and crept through the
doorway, keeping one eye on the broom that Mrs. Green held in her hand.
And as soon as he was safely outside he gave two or three sharp yelps,
telling Miss Kitty Cat that he would watch for her the very first time
she set foot in the yard.
Somehow Miss Kitty Cat wasn't specially worried. She knew a thing or two
about dogs; and she didn't intend to let old Spot bully her. It took her
a few minutes to get over her anger. And then she came out from beneath
the table and lapped up the milk that Mrs. Green had set temptingly on
the floor, in a saucer.
When Miss Kitty had finished her meal she washed her face--a duty that
she performed with great care, for she prided herself on always looking
neat.
Watching her, no one would ever have guessed what was in her mind. "I'd
like to wash that dog's face for him!" Miss Kitty was saying to herself.
"He'd have some reason then for yelping and whining."
Having completed her toilet Miss Kitty jumped into a chair that stood in
the sunshine, near a window. And there she composed herself for a nap.
When she was well fed and well warmed she liked nothing better than to
curl herself up and doze and dream.
Meanwhile old dog Spot was telling everybody in the farmyard about the
new cat and the fun he intended to have with her.
"There'll be lively times around here when she comes outside the house,"
he chuckled.
III
CHASING MISS KITTY
WHEN Miss Kitty Cat awoke from her nap she got up and stretched herself.
In her opinion, a nap was no nap at all if one didn't stretch after
taking it. "There's nothing like a good stretch to make a person
limber," she often remarked.
Of course, in order to climb trees, or spring successfully at a rat or a
mouse, Miss Kitty had to keep her muscles supple. And since it happened,
now and then, that others jumped unexpectedly at her, she believed in
always being ready either to chase or to be chased.
After she had smoothed her fur to suit her, Miss Kitty went to the door
and mewed patiently until Farmer Green's wife opened it. Then Miss Kitty
Cat slipped out of the kitchen and found herself in the woodshed. A
highly interesting place, it seemed to her, with any number of crannies
to offer lurking-places for mice. She decided at once that the woodshed
would be a fine spot in which to hunt in stormy weather.
Feeling much pleased with her new home, Miss Kitty hopped down upon the
great flat stone that served as a step from the woodshed to the ground.
She couldn't help thinking, as she sat there, what a pleasant yard
Farmer Green had. She noticed that there were trees enough about the
farmhouse to furnish homes for plenty of birds.
And if there was one thing that Miss Kitty Cat liked it was to visit
birds right where they lived.
Seeing a faint stir in the grass not far away, she began to creep
towards it. Miss Kitty had found that it paid to look into such things.
Often she had surprised a meadow mouse in just that way.
This time, however, it was Miss Kitty Cat herself that was surprised.
She was so intent on her own important business that she never took her
eyes off that spot where the grass had moved. And that was why she
didn't see old dog Spot when he stuck his nose around a corner of the
farmhouse.
Now, Spot's ways were quite different from Miss Kitty's. Whenever he set
out on a hunt he never could keep still. So the moment he caught sight
of Miss Kitty Cat he gave a joyful bark. At the same time he bounded
towards her.
Of course Spot's yelps warned her to run. The moment she heard his first
bark she forgot all about her own hunt, being herself the hunted. She
scurried off across the farmyard, with Spot tearing after her.
If she had had time enough Miss Kitty would have climbed a tree. But
Spot was altogether too near her for that. And being a stranger about
the farmyard, she hadn't learned all the fine hiding places. Since Spot
was between her and the house, she made for the barn and sprang through
the open door. Inside Spot quickly cornered her.
With her back arched and her tail almost as big as Tommy Fox's brush,
Miss Kitty Cat turned and faced her pursuer.
IV
A TENDER NOSE
"HURRAH!" old dog Spot barked. At least, what he said sounded a good
deal like that.
He had cornered Miss Kitty Cat in the barn. And there was nothing he
liked more than teasing anybody that was short-tempered as she was.
"_Tchah!_" Miss Kitty hissed.
Now, that ought to have been warning enough to Spot to keep a good, safe
distance from her. But he was one of the sort that never knows enough to
take a warning for what it is worth.
"_Wow!_" he chuckled. "You needn't think I'm afraid of you. If you ran
from me once, you'll run again."
He didn't intend to hurt Miss Kitty. All he wanted was to get her to run
across the yard again, so that he might have the sport of chasing her.
So he edged nearer and nearer her, thinking that she would dodge past
him and run out of the barn.
But Miss Kitty Cat had no relish for that sport.
"Keep your distance, sir!" she cried. And though she spoke plainly
enough, old Spot paid no heed to her words. Instead, he gave a quick
spring at her, just to worry her a bit more.
To his great surprise, almost at that same instant Miss Kitty Cat sprang
at him. And as she jumped, she flashed one of her paws out and struck
Spot on one side of his long nose.
It was not just a gentle tap with a soft, well-padded paw. She thrust
her claws well out from between her toes. And jabbing them deep into
Spot's tender nose, she gave a sharp downward pull.
All at once old dog Spot thought of the time when, as a puppy, he stuck
his nose into a hornet's nest. His joyful bark changed suddenly to a
shrill _ki-yi_ of pain. And at the same time he became angry.
"You don't know how to have fun," he growled at Miss Kitty Cat. "Just to
teach you better manners I'm going to take you by the back of your neck
and shake you."
It appeared that Miss Kitty herself had quite a different notion. At
least, she went through an entirely different motion, which was not at
all like offering the back of her neck for old Spot to seize. When Spot
reached for her she clawed him furiously, with one paw after another,
while she told him what she thought of him.
He did not wait to hear everything that Miss Kitty had to say to him.
Spot thought too much of his nose to linger in the barn any longer, but
turned tail and hurried into the yard.
Miss Kitty Cat chased him as far as the door. Taking one quick backward
glance at her as he went, Spot noticed how fiercely her eyes glared. It
was a terrible sight. And it made him hasten all the faster.
"My goodness! What a temper!" he said under his breath.
Loping across the farmyard, he looked about him uneasily. He hoped
nobody had seen Miss Kitty Cat driving him out of the barn. He knew it
would be a hard matter to explain to any one. All his farmyard friends
would be sure to think it a great joke.
Luckily there was no one in sight except Henrietta Hen.
"She won't notice anything," Spot assured himself. "She's the stupidest
person on the farm."
Having nothing more to worry about except his scratched nose, old Spot
crawled under the woodshed and nursed his wounds during the rest of the
morning.
As for Miss Kitty Cat, she stayed in the barn a long time.
"What a worthless fellow that old dog is!" she thought. "This barn is
full of mice! I don't believe he has caught one in all the years he has
lived on the farm."
V
SPOTS AND SPECKLES
WHEN she first met Miss Kitty Cat face to face Henrietta Hen exclaimed,
"What a pity!"
Miss Kitty Cat hadn't intended to speak to Henrietta Hen at all. She
didn't care, as a rule, to have anything to do with hens. She often
remarked that she liked eggs and she liked chickens; but she never could
see what hens were good for.
Well, when Henrietta Hen spoke to her like that Miss Kitty Cat paused
and stared at her coolly for a moment or two. Then she asked in rather a
distant tone, "What's a pity?"
Now, Henrietta Hen seldom knew when she was snubbed. And goodness knows
people snubbed her often enough, too. For she was forever making remarks
about their looks. And now she said to Miss Kitty Cat, "It's a pity your
speckles are so big."
Miss Kitty Cat saw at once that Henrietta Hen was a vain creature. She
had half a mind to walk on and leave her, without saying another word to
her. Indeed, Miss Kitty had turned aside to continue her stroll towards
the meadow when Henrietta Hen spoke to her again.
"Don't you think," Henrietta demanded, "that speckles should be worn
very small, like mine? Don't you think yours are too big?"
"I'd rather not talk with you," said Miss Kitty Cat. "I can see plainly
that we'd never agree."
"Oh, do stop for a while!" Henrietta Hen besought her. "I love a chat
with a cat," she added with a silly giggle.
Miss Kitty Cat was vexed. She thought that Henrietta Hen was a tiresome
person.
"Ill stop and have a chat with you," Miss Kitty relented, "for it's not
often that I meet a spotted hen. If my speckles are too big," she went
on in an icy tone, "it is just as true that your spots are altogether
too small."
"Spots!" Henrietta cackled. Like all empty-headed people, she was quick
to lose her temper. "Spots indeed! I'd have you know that I haven't any
spots. I'm a speckled beauty--that's what I am. And if you don't believe
it you can ask the Rooster."
"Perhaps I was mistaken," Miss Kitty Cat purred. "Anyhow, I'll take
_your_ word about the Specks. I won't bother to ask the Rooster."
"Ah!" Henrietta Hen exclaimed. "You're afraid of him! You're afraid he
might want to fight you. And I wish he would," she screamed at Miss
Kitty, "for it's plain that you're no gentleman."
"Well--I should hope not!" Miss Kitty Cat gasped.
"I thought you were a gentleman, or I should never have spoken to you,"
Henrietta Hen declared. "When I first saw you I said to myself, 'Here's
a quiet, polite gentleman! It will be pleasant to have him living at the
farmhouse.' But I see that I was mistaken."
"You were!" cried Miss Kitty, who was--to say the least--greatly
astonished by Henrietta's odd remarks. "My name is Miss Kitty Cat. And
what made you think I was a gentleman is more than I can guess."
"_Miss!_" cried Henrietta. "_Miss!_ Then why, pray tell me, do you wear
those whiskers?"
Try as she would, Miss Kitty could give no reason that satisfied
Henrietta Hen. And Henrietta always declared that Miss Kitty Cat was a
strange, strange person.
VI
BEECHNUT SHUCKS
ONCE in a while Frisky Squirrel paid a visit to Farmer Green's place.
Although he had learned that the farmyard was not without its dangers,
after one adventure Frisky was always sure to return, sometime, as if in
search of another.
So a certain fine, fall day found him scampering along the top of the
stone wall that followed the road as it dropped down the hill from the
woods to Farmer Green's front gate.
Old Mr. Crow, sailing lazily over the yellowing fields, caught sight of
the stone wall traveller and glided into a tree beside the road. "You'd
better not go near the farmyard, young fellow!" old Mr. Crow called.
Frisky Squirrel stopped, sat down, and looked up at Mr. Crow in the tree
above him.
"Why not?" Frisky inquired.
"Haven't you heard the news?" Mr. Crow asked him. "Haven't you heard
that there's a cat at the farmhouse?"
"I didn't know it," Frisky admitted. "But I don't see why I should turn
back. I won't hurt her."
Old Mr. Crow _haw-hawed_.
"I don't believe," he croaked, "you've ever met a cat."
"No, I haven't," Frisky Squirrel replied, "but I'd like to see one. So
I'll be on my way. But don't worry, Mr. Crow? I won't hurt her." And
then Frisky started off along the top of the stone wall once more, at a
somewhat brisker pace to make up for lost time.
"He can't say I didn't warn him," Mr. Crow exclaimed as he watched the
bouncing bit of gray fur.
"I hope Mr. Crow won't worry," said Frisky Squirrel to himself. "If the
cat gets hurt it will be her own fault, for I certainly won't harm her."
When Frisky reached the farmyard he crept around a corner of the barn,
hoping to find a few kernels of corn. But Henrietta Hen had been there
before him and there wasn't one kernel left. He ran here and there about
the yard. And at last, when quite near the woodshed door, he sat up
suddenly, twitched his nose a few times, and said, "Ha! I smell
beechnuts!"
Now, that was not strange. Johnnie Green had been eating beechnuts in
the woodshed doorway. And he had scattered the shucks on the broad
stone step. Frisky Squirrel began nosing them. And just out of sight
inside the woodshed Miss Kitty Cat awoke from a short nap, stopped right
in the middle of a long stretch, and said, "Ha! I smell a squirrel!"
Miss Kitty Cat was wide awake in an instant. She flattened herself upon
the woodshed floor and crept silently to the door. Though she didn't
make the slightest sound, all at once Frisky Squirrel's nose twitched
again, as he muttered to himself, "There's a very queer smell about
these beechnut shucks!"
He was sitting on the edge of the stone doorstep with a bit of beechnut
clutched in his paws. And when he looked up and saw somebody's nose
appear in the doorway he tumbled right over backward. The only sound he
made came from the beechnut shuck, which made a faint click as it fell
upon the stone. And Miss Kitty Cat's sharp ears caught it.
VII
TWO IN A TREE
WHEN Miss Kitty Cat dashed out of the woodshed Frisky Squirrel was two
jumps ahead of her. That was really a better lead than it sounds. Frisky
was always a good jumper. And the more scared he was, the further he
could leap. Anybody that knew him well would have known then--just to
see him--that something had given him a great fright.
First he had noticed a strange smell. Next he had seen a strange nose
come stealing out of the woodshed door. And not knowing who was going to
follow that nose, Frisky Squirrel felt that the sooner he climbed a
tree the better it would be for him. So he made for a tall elm that
wasn't too far away.
Though Miss Kitty Cat was a fast runner, Frisky reached the foot of the
tree ahead of her. And he was half way to the lowest branches before he
took a real look at his pursuer.
To his dismay he saw that the creature hadn't stopped at the foot of the
tree. The monster had already begun climbing after him. Frisky had never
seen any one just like this fierce person. One look was enough for him.
He pushed higher and higher into the tree-top and crept far out on a
drooping limb, which swayed beneath his weight as he clung to it.
There he paused, while he watched to see what the stranger would do. And
as he stared at the creature he remembered suddenly what Mr. Crow had
told him. "There's a cat at the farmhouse," the old gentleman had said.
"This must be the cat," Frisky thought. And to her he called, "If you're
the cat, don't come any nearer, madam! You might get hurt." For he
remembered, too, that he had told Mr. Crow that he wouldn't harm the
cat.
"It _is_ the cat," he said to himself presently, "for she has stopped."
Miss Kitty Cat did not quite dare follow Frisky Squirrel to the tip
where he swung. She crouched upon the branch a little way from him,
where it was safer for her, and with switching tail and bristling
whiskers waited to see what he would do next.
"It makes me uneasy to see you swaying so," she told Frisky. "Besides,
you're shaking this limb. And I don't like it."
"She's a fussy creature--this cat!" Frisky said to himself. "I promised
Mr. Crow I wouldn't hurt her; but I didn't promise him that I wouldn't
tease her." So he bobbed up and down with all his might.
"Stop!" cried Miss Kitty Cat. "That's a very reckless thing to do. It's
like rocking the boat."
"I think it's the finest sport in the world," Frisky chuckled.
"I know a finer," Miss Kitty snarled.
"What that?" he asked her.
"If I could get my claws on you I'd soon show you," she told him grimly.
Somehow there was something about her remark that startled Frisky
Squirrel--something that made him shiver. And when he shivered he lost
his hold. Down he dropped, slipping and floundering from one branch to
another.
And down Miss Kitty Cat followed him.
VIII
NINE LIVES
FRISKY SQUIRREL was much more at home in the trees than Miss Kitty Cat
was. While Frisky managed at last to cling to a limb and right himself,
Miss Kitty lost her footing and fell out of the tree completely.
"Oh! She'll he hurt!" Frisky cried as he saw her turning and twisting
through the air. But to his great surprise she struck with all her four
feet on the ground, quite unharmed. "You did that very nicely," he
called to her generously.
But she didn't answer. To tell the truth, she felt rather foolish
because she had fallen out of the tree. And she walked back to the
woodshed and stalked through the doorway without saying a word.
After that adventure Frisky Squirrel decided to go back home. So he
scurried town the tree-trunk and scampered to the stone wall, and
scooted along the top of it.
Old Mr. Crow was watching for him. And as before, he dropped down near
the wall to talk.
"I hardly expected to see you again," Mr. Crow remarked. "You couldn't
have met the cat."
"Yes!" said Frisky. "I met her. She followed me up a tree. And it's a
wonder she didn't get hurt, though I was careful of her. She had a fall;
but she landed beautifully."
Old Mr. Crow nodded wisely.
"She always lands on her feet," he observed. "And you needn't worry
about her," he added. "You know, they say she has nine lives."
"Nine lives!" Frisky Squirrel exclaimed. "What do you mean, Mr. Crow?"
Now, Mr. Crow really knew a great deal, because he had lived many years.
And he pretended to know still more, because he liked to appear learned.
But this question was a puzzler for him. He simply couldn't answer it.
"You wouldn't understand, even if I explained," he told Frisky Squirrel.
And then he flew away, leaving Frisky to run home and wonder what it
meant to have nine lives.
As for Mr. Crow, he suddenly made up his mind that he would find out
about Miss Kitty Cat's nine lives. He would ask that lady herself. So he
flapped himself over to the big elm in the farmyard, where he cawed and
cawed, hoping that Miss Kitty Cat would appear to see what all the noise
was about.
And sure enough! she soon bounced out of the woodshed door and looked up
at Mr. Crow inquiringly.
"I've been hearing a good deal about; you," Mr. Crow called down to her
in what he considered his sweetest tones, though anybody else would have
said they were quite hoarse. "I know you always manage to land on your
feet--and I can understand that. But what's this I hear about _nine
lives?_"
Miss Kitty Cat only stared at him.
"Perhaps you don't feel like talking," said Mr. Crow. "If you've just
had a fall, maybe you're still a bit shaken up, even if you did land on
your feet. Perhaps you'd rather I came back later."
Miss Kitty Cat suddenly found her voice.
"You've been gossiping with that young squirrel!" she snapped. "I'll
have you know that I'm not shaken up at all. But I'd shake you up if I
could get hold of you!"
Mr. Crow was astonished. He was sure he had been most polite. Yet here
was Miss Kitty Cat as rude as she could be!
He amused himself by jeering at her until she turned her back on him and
went inside the woodshed. And he had to go away without learning
anything at all about the nine lives of Miss Kitty Cat. They always
remained a deep mystery. Everybody agreed that the number was nine. But
beyond that, nobody could explain about them.
IX
THE STOLEN CREAM
"I DECLARE!" Farmer Green's wife cried one day. "Somebody's been
stealing my cream in the buttery."
The buttery was a big bare room on the shady side of the house, where
great pans of milk stood on a long table. When the cream was thick
enough on the milk Mrs. Green skimmed it off and put it in cans. At one
end of the buttery there was a trap door in the floor. When the trap was
raised you could look right down into a well. And into its cool depths
Mrs. Green dropped her cans of cream by means of a rope, which she
fastened to a beam under the floor, so the tops of the cans would stay
out of the water.
Mrs. Green made butter out of that cream. So it was no wonder she was
upset when she discovered that some one had meddled with one of her pans
of milk.
"It can't be the cat," said Farmer Green's wife. "The buttery door has
been shut tight all the time."
Miss Kitty Cat was right there in the kitchen while Mrs. Green was
talking to her husband. And it was easy to see that Miss Kitty agreed
with her mistress. She came close to Mrs. Green and purred, saying quite
plainly that she was a good, honest cat and that she deserved to be
petted. At least, that was what Mrs. Green understood her to mean.
Often, after that, Mrs. Green discovered traces of the thief in the
buttery. Flecks of cream on the side of a milk pan, drops of cream on
the table, smudges of cream now and then on the floor! Such signs meant
something. But Farmer Green's wife couldn't decide what.
And another strange thing happened. Miss Kitty Cat lost her appetite for
milk. She would leave her saucer of milk untasted on the kitchen floor.
Now and then Mrs. Green picked Miss Kitty up and looked closely at her
face. At such times Miss Kitty purred pleasantly. She did not seem to be
the least bit disturbed.
One evening, after dark, Johnnie Green went into the buttery to get a
pail. The moment he opened the door there was a crash and a clatter
inside the room.
Johnnie jumped back quickly.
"There's somebody in the buttery!" he shouted.
But when his father brought a light they found no one there. A tin
dipper lay on the floor.
"When you opened the door it must have jarred the dipper off the edge of
the table," said Farmer Green.
"_Meaow!_" said a voice behind them. There stood Miss Kitty Cat, saying
that everything _must_ have happened exactly as Farmer Green said.
"She couldn't have been in here, could she?" Farmer Green puzzled.
"Come, Kitty!" And he picked up Miss Kitty and held her where the light
fell full upon her face. "Clean as a whistle!" said Farmer Green. "I
guess she just followed us in." He set her down again. And once more,
with a plaintive _meaow_ she agreed with him perfectly.
X
A CREAMY FACE
FARMER GREEN'S wife threw away pan after pan of milk, because she knew
somebody had been stealing cream off the top of them. At least, she told
Farmer Green to feed the milk to the pigs, because she wasn't going to
make butter of any cream that had been tampered with by goodness knew
whom or what. And old dog Spot said that feeding good creamy milk to the
pigs was just the same as throwing it away. He made that remark to Miss
Kitty Cat, adding that it was a shame that somebody was stealing cream
and declaring that he hoped to catch the thief.
Miss Kitty Cat made no reply whatsoever.
"Don't you hope I'll catch the guilty party?" Spot asked her.
"Please don't speak to me!" Miss Kitty Cat exclaimed impatiently. "I
don't enjoy your talk; and you may as well know it."
"Very well!" said Spot. "But when I catch him I'll let you know."
"She's jealous," Spot thought. "She knows I'm a good watch dog. And she
can't bear the idea of my catching a thief."
It was hard, usually, to tell how Miss Kitty Cat felt about anything.
She was a great one for keeping her opinions to herself. It seemed as if
she wanted to be let alone by every one except Farmer Green's family.
Having boasted about catching the cream thief, old dog Spot began to
watch the buttery very carefully. Search as he would, he couldn't find a
chink anywhere that was big enough even for a mouse to squeeze through.
One day he happened to catch a glimpse of something moving under the
roof of the shed next the buttery. To his amazement he saw Miss Kitty
Cat slip through an old stove-pipe hole that pierced the great chimney
which led down into the buttery, where there was an ancient fireplace
which hadn't been used for years and years. Miss Kitty Cat crept along a
tiebeam and hid herself in a pile of odds and ends that somebody had
stowed high up under the roof and left there to gather dust and
cob-webs.
"Ah, ha!" said Spot under his breath. "This is interesting."
When Miss Kitty Cat visited the kitchen a little later there wasn't a
speck of dirt on her coat. And her face was spotless. No one would have
guessed that she had ever made her way through an old chimney.
Old dog Spot said nothing to her then. But he chuckled to himself. He
had a plan that pleased him hugely.
All this happened on a morning. And late that afternoon when Miss Kitty
Cat wasn't anywhere to be seen, and Farmer Green's wife opened the
buttery door to get a pitcher of cream for supper, Spot suddenly began
to bark in the shed. He scrambled up a stepladder that leaned against
the wall and stood on the top of it while he pawed the air frantically,
as if he were trying to fly.
The noise brought Mrs. Green hurriedly out of the buttery. And she was
just in time to see Miss Kitty Cat peer out of the old stove-pipe hole,
with a _creamy_ look about her mouth.
Well, the cat was out of the bag at last. Or perhaps it would be more
exact to say that Miss Kitty was out of the buttery. Anyhow, it was very
plain to Mrs. Green that she had been in the buttery only a moment
before, lapping thick cream off a pan of milk. And she hadn't had time
to wash her face.
After that Farmer Green stopped up the stove-pipe hole. And soon Miss
Kitty's appetite for milk returned. When Mrs. Green set out her saucer
of milk for her Miss Kitty lapped it up greedily--and even licked the
saucer clean.
Old dog Spot watched her with a grin.
"I let you know when I caught the cream thief, just as I promised you I
would," he jeered.
Miss Kitty wiped her face very carefully before replying.
"Don't boast!" she said. "It's a disagreeable thing to do.... Besides,
_I_ knew--_long before you did_--who was taking Mrs. Green's cream."
XI
THE WRENS' HOME
THERE wasn't a bird on the farm that didn't dislike Miss Kitty Cat. And
there was only one bird family that didn't live in dread of her. That
was the Wren family. And they had a good reason for feeling safe from
Miss Kitty.
Miss Kitty Cat always spluttered whenever she unbent herself enough to
talk with anybody about Rusty Wren and his busy little wife, who had
their home in the cherry tree outside Farmer Green's window.
"The Wrens needn't feel so proud of their house," Miss Kitty Cat
sometimes said. "It's nothing but an old syrup can. And I know for a
fact that Mrs. Bluebird looked at it last spring when she was hunting
for a home. And she said she wouldn't live in such a place. I heard her
tell her husband so."
Now, the reason why Mr. and Mrs. Wren liked their house and the reason
why Miss Kitty Cat didn't were one and the same: Miss Kitty couldn't get
inside it. The mouth of the syrup can, which the Wren family used for a
door, was no bigger than a quarter of a dollar. It was entirely too
small for Miss Kitty Cat, though it was big enough to admit Rusty Wren
and his plump wife.
Miss Kitty said everything she could to persuade the Wren family to
build themselves a nest in a crotch of the tree, like other birds.
"I'm sure," she told them, "you'd like such a home much better than
this. There's no reason why you shouldn't be as fashionable as everybody
else. You wouldn't have to look for a place to build. There's room
enough right in this old cherry tree for a hundred happy homes if
anybody wanted to build them."
"We like our house," Rusty Wren said.
"I wouldn't move, even if he wanted to," Mrs. Wren declared.
"Maybe you'd move because he _doesn't_ want to," Miss Kitty Cat
suggested.
But Mrs. Wren shook her head in a most decided way.
"No!" she said. "I'm satisfied with my house. And our neighbors would be
far better off if they built as we do, inside a snug sort of box."
"You'll never know what you're missing," Miss Kitty remarked, "if you
don't try an open nest sometime. Now, only yesterday I visited Jolly
Robin's family over in the orchard. And their youngsters certainly did
look beautiful. But you keep yours hidden inside that old syrup can
where nobody can see them. It's a shame that the public can't have a
chance to admire such fine nestlings as you must have in there."
Miss Kitty Cat was sitting under the cherry tree. And she looked up and
smiled most agreeably at Mrs. Wren.
Rusty Wren looked thoughtful.
"There's something in what she says," he whispered to his wife. "It is
too bad not to let the neighbors admire the finest nestlings in Pleasant
Valley."
"You know they say a cat may look at a king," Miss Kitty simpered.
"Well, a fortnight ago I went over to the pine woods and had a look at a
Ruby Crowned Kinglet's family. So it seems only fair that I shouldn't
be denied a look at your little wrenlets."
XII
JOLLY ROBIN'S NEWS
IN A WAY Miss Kitty Cat was a patient creature. She could play a waiting
game. She spent hours watching rat-holes without growing restless.
So after her talk with Rusty Wren and his wife, when she urged them to
give up their boxlike house and build themselves an open nest like most
other birds, Miss Kitty left them.
"I'll let my words sink in," Miss Kitty muttered to herself. "Of course
they'll want to talk things over privately."
It wasn't often that she made herself so agreeable to any of the bird
people. Indeed, she had been so pleasant that Rusty Wren began to think
that Miss Kitty was a much kinder creature than he had always supposed.
"Miss Kitty's very agreeable," Rusty Wren remarked to his wife. "Did you
notice how sweetly she spoke of our children?"
"Huh!" said Mrs. Wren. "She may fool you; but she can't fool me. She's a
mealy-mouthed animal, if ever I met one."
"I don't see how you can say that about Miss Kitty Cat," Rusty replied.
"She doesn't eat meal."
"I suppose you'll be saying next that she doesn't eat birds!" his wife
exclaimed.
"I fear you've been listening to gossip," Rusty ventured. "If Miss Kitty
Cat comes back I hope you'll be cordial to her."
He could have bitten his tongue a moment later for saying that, because
Mrs. Wren began to scold him. And he flew away and left her as soon as
he could think of a good excuse.
He went over to the orchard, where he flitted about for some time. And
at last he met Jolly Robin, who appeared most doleful.
"What's the matter?" Rusty Wren asked. "You look terribly upset."
"So I am," Jolly Robin admitted. "We had a caller yesterday."
"Well, well!" said Rusty Wren. "That's nothing to be glum about."
"You'd think so if you were I. It was Miss Kitty Cat. And when she left
she took one of our nestlings with her."
"Perhaps she only borrowed it," Rusty Wren suggested. "Maybe she'll
return it to-day."
"No!" Jolly Robin told him. "If she comes back again it will only be to
take another one."
Suddenly Rusty Wren remembered that he had urged his wife to be cordial
to Miss Kitty Cat the next time she called at the cherry tree where they
lived.
"I must hurry home!" he cried. "I must warn my wife."
"But your youngsters are safe," Jolly Robin assured him. "Miss Kitty Cat
can't reach them inside the tin can where you built your nest."
"That's true," Rusty Wren admitted. "But there's my wife! Miss Kitty
might harm her, if she caught her unawares." So he started for home at
top speed.
XIII
AN UNWELCOME GUEST
AS he neared his home in the cherry tree, Rusty Wren saw a fearsome
sight. Miss Kitty Cat was crouched right on top of the tin syrup can
which Johnnie Green had nailed to the tree. Inside that can was the Wren
family's nest. And inside the nest were some brand-new youngsters, only
two days out of their shells.
It was no wonder that when Rusty Wren came hack from the orchard and saw
such a sight he began to shriek.
"What are you doing on my roof?" he shrilled.
Miss Kitty Cat looked up calmly and watched him as he hopped about in
the top of the tree above her head.
[Illustration: Miss Kitty Cat Looked Calmly at Rusty Wren.]
"I've come to make another call on your wife," she explained.
Then a muffled voice chirped, "She's been here a long time and I can't
get her to go away."
The moment he heard that, Rusty Wren felt better. It was his wife's
voice and it meant that she was safe. To be sure, Rusty knew that she
was a prisoner in her own house; for it was plain that she dared not
leave it so long as Miss Kitty Cat stayed on the roof, ready to grab
Mrs. Wren the moment she stepped out of her doorway.
"Your wife is very shy," Miss Kitty remarked to Rusty Wren with a sly
smile. "I've been hoping to get more acquainted with her. That's why I
climbed up and sat on your roof. When people are shy and don't invite
me inside their houses I believe in making myself at home outside, while
I wait for them to appear."
From her doorway Mrs. Wren called to her husband, "Don't let her deceive
you with her pretty talk! Remember what I told you! She's
mealy-mouthed.... If you had seen her trying to reach her paw through
the door you'd know how dangerous she is."
"There!" said Miss Kitty Cat with a sigh. "People never seem to
understand my ways. I was only trying to shake hands!"
"With her claws!" cried the muffled voice of Rusty Wren's wife. "Ugh!
She's a wicked creature if ever there was one."
"Go away!" Rusty Wren scolded. "Get off my roof! Get out of my cherry
tree!"
By this time feathered neighbors of the Wren family were arriving from
all directions. They didn't hesitate to call Miss Kitty Cat names. And
some of them even darted quite near her, as if they meant to peck her
eyes out.
Miss Kitty began to have a worried look.
"Goodness! Where do they all live?" she asked herself. "I had no idea
there were so many birds around here. There's better hunting than I
supposed."
Try as they would, the birds couldn't budge Miss Kitty Cat from the top
of Rusty's house. He was frantic, poor fellow!
"I don't know what to do," he wailed. "My wife will starve in there--and
the children, too."
Just then little Mr. Chippy came hurrying up to him.
"Don't worry!" Mr. Chippy cried. "He's coming! He's on the way now; and
he can get you out of your trouble if anybody can."
Miss Kitty Cat pricked up her ears. She couldn't help hearing what Mr.
Chippy said.
"I shall stay right where I am," she declared. "Nobody can make me
move."
She had scarcely finished speaking when a most unexpected sound startled
her.
It was "_Meaow!_"
XIV
CATCALLS
PERCHED on top of Rusty Wren's tin house, Miss Kitty Cat had been
enjoying herself thoroughly, while the birds made a great how-dy-do and
tried in vain to frighten her away.
When she heard all at once an unexpected _meaow_ she showed that it
startled her.
"A cat!" cried Miss Kitty. "I didn't suppose there was another cat for
miles around." She looked about on all sides, on the ground and in the
tree-tops. And there was no cat anywhere in sight.
Meanwhile the birds were all exclaiming, "There! He's here. Now Miss
Kitty Cat had better watch out."
Again a strange, mocking catcall sounded from somewhere. There was a
sort of jeer about it that aroused Miss Kitty Cat's anger.
"He's come, has he?" she exclaimed to little Mr. Chippy, who chattered
at her from a good, safe distance. "If he's looking for a fight I'd be
pleased to have him come and get it."
Whoever the stranger was, and wherever he was, he knew how to tease Miss
Kitty Cat. Now he howled at her from the thicket of lilac bushes on the
edge of the flower garden. Now he mewed at her from the hedge in front
of the farmhouse. And though Miss Kitty Cat tried to get a glimpse of
him, she couldn't see anything that even faintly resembled a cat.
The annoying cries moved from one place to another. She was sure of
that. But the one that made them managed to stay hidden.
"This is queer!" Miss Kitty Cat said to herself. "Can it be that there's
a cat's voice around here, and nothing more? A cat without a voice
wouldn't be so strange. But a voice without a cat--that's the oddest
thing I ever heard of!"
At last Rusty Wren seemed to take heart. And his wife, inside their
house, abused Miss Kitty Cat loudly--or as loudly as she could from
inside the tin syrup can.
"I always knew you were a coward," she told Miss Kitty. "You're always
ready to attack us small people. But you don't dare fight anybody of
your own size."
"How can I fight a person that I can't see?" Miss Kitty asked. "If this
noisy stranger would come out in the open I'd soon show you whether I'd
fight him or not. I'd teach him--if I could get hold of him--not to come
here and interfere when I'm making a neighborly call."
"Nonsense!" cried Mrs. Wren. "You don't mean half you say. If you
weren't a fraud you'd go and find this person that's jeering at you."
_"Meaow-ow-ow!"_ Again that mocking call grated on Miss Kitty's ears.
"There!" Mrs. Wren exclaimed. "There it is again. It would make me
pretty angry to be talked to like that. But I don't suppose it bothers
you. Probably you're used to having people caterwaul at you."
That was a little more than Miss Kitty Cat could stand. She scrambled
down from the old cherry tree and ran across the yard to the row of
currant bushes, whence the last catcalls had come.
As she drew near, a slim slate-colored bird gave a harsh laugh as he
flew up from the bushes. It was Mr. Catbird. And Miss Kitty Cat felt
sheepish enough when she saw him. She knew that he had succeeded in
fooling her with his mocking cries.
The birds--with Mr. Catbird among them, and Mrs. Wren, too--all gathered
round Miss Kitty and made such a clamor that she crept away and hid in
the haymow. She never could endure much noise, unless she made most of
it herself--by the light Of the moon.
XV
MOUSETRAPS
"I DON'T understand," said old dog Spot to Miss Kitty Cat one day, "why
Mrs. Green wants to keep you around the house when she can buy
mousetraps at the village." Old Spot eyed Miss Kitty slyly. He dearly
loved to watch her whiskers bristle and her tail grow big. And he could
make both those things happen almost any time he wanted to.
If anybody wished to see Miss Kitty Cat turn up her nose he had only to
mention mousetraps. Of all worthless junk she thought they were the
worst.
"They can't catch any but the dull-witted mice," she used to say. "A
mouse that knows anything won't go near a trap unless he's hungry. If he
wants to go to a little trouble to get a piece of stale cheese he can
usually spring the trap without getting caught in it--even if he has to
use his tail to do it."
"But a mousetrap," Spot objected, "is little or no care. One doesn't
have to feed it except when he wants it to catch a mouse. And everybody
knows that Mrs. Green feeds you several times a day. Besides, the fewer
mice you catch, the more food she has to waste on you."
"Rubbish!" Miss Kitty Cat sniffed. "You eat ten times as much as I do.
And I never heard of your catching a mouse, either."
"Ah!" said Spot. "Don't forget that I drive the cows and watch the house
and the barns at night. And during my spare moments I hunt woodchucks.
You couldn't expect a person of my importance to fritter away his
valuable time catching mice. Mousetraps couldn't do my work," old dog
Spot continued. "There never was a mousetrap made that could drive a
cow."
"That's one reason why I don't like them," said Miss Kitty Cat. "They're
not only poor at catching mice, but they're useless at anything else.
Now, whenever I capture a mouse I always make matters as pleasant as
possible for, him. I always play with him for as long a time as I can
spare. But a trap just goes _snap_! A trap doesn't seem to _want_ to
make friends with anybody."
Old dog Spot laughed right in Miss Kitty's face.
"Much you care for your friends the mice!" he chuckled. "And much they
care for you! If you knew what they call you, you'd be pretty angry."
"What's that?" Miss Kitty demanded.
"I don't want to tell you," said Spot. "I don't want to hurt your
feelings." He knew (the rogue) that he could tease Miss Kitty more by
leaving her to wonder what name the mice had for her.
Much as she wanted to know it, Miss Kitty Cat was too proud and haughty
to ask him again. And, jumping up suddenly, she walked stiffly away.
"I shall have to find a mouse somewhere," she muttered under her breath.
"I shall have to find a mouse somewhere and make him tell me what old
Spot won't."
XVI
A MIDNIGHT MEAL
DOWN in the cellar of the farmhouse a fat couple known as Mr. and Mrs.
Moses Mouse crept out of a hole under the pantry floor and ran down a
post to the cellar bottom.
"Things have come to a pretty pass!" Mr. Mouse grumbled. "Mrs. Green
never did leave more than a crumb or two in the pantry where a fellow
could get it. And since Miss Snooper came to live here there's less to
eat than ever."
Mrs. Mouse nodded her head somewhat dolefully.
"Do you remember, Moses," she said to her husband, "what delicious bits
of stale cheese Mrs. Green used to serve for us here in the cellar,
stuck on a short piece of wire? To be sure, she was somewhat
thoughtless--the way she left that dangerous loop caught back, so it
would snap over and catch you behind the ears if you weren't careful.
But you were always very skillful at avoiding that."
"Ah! Those were happy days--or, I should say, _nights_!" Mr. Mouse
exclaimed with a sigh. "It makes me sad just to think of that fine, old,
stale, moldy cheese."
"I suppose Mrs. Green gives it all to that horrid Miss Snooper now,"
said Mrs. Mouse, as she climbed to a shelf and looked at the labels on
several jars of jam and jelly that stood there in a row.
Moses Mouse watched her hopefully. Being quite plump, he was a bit
lazy. And he did not care to scramble up to a shelf for nothing.
"There isn't one without a cover, is there?" he inquired.
"No!" his wife replied.
"There isn't one with a little sweetness oozing down the side of it, is
there?" he asked her.
"No!" said Mrs. Mouse. "Not one! I suppose Miss Snooper has licked them
all clean."
"That disagreeable Miss Snooper has spoiled everything for us," Moses
Mouse declared. And for a fat gentleman he looked oddly unhappy.
"I don't know what we'll do for our supper," he whined. He always whined
when he was hungry.
"There's that chunk of putty that Farmer Green left in the woodshed,"
his wife reminded him.
"Ugh!" Moses Mouse made a wry face. "We've dined upon that for the last
three nights. And I never did like putty, anyhow. I wish that snooping
Miss Snooper had to eat it." His mournful eyes roved about the cellar
until they rested on something in a dark corner. "What's in that box
over there?" he asked Mrs. Mouse.
"I don't know," she answered.
"Well--go and see, then!" he snapped. "I'm so faint I can scarcely
stand."
Mrs. Mouse always humored Moses when he was hungry. She knew that he was
never fretful after he had eaten a good meal. So her feet twinkled
across the cellar floor and she disappeared inside the box.
Not hearing anything from her, Moses Mouse soon grew more impatient than
ever.
"Well!" he sang out. "What luck!"
"Potatoes!" came his wife's muffled answer, out of a full mouth. "I
declare, I forgot to call you."
XVII
THE EAVESDROPPER
FOR ANYBODY that was so faint, Moses Mouse ran to the box of potatoes
very spryly. His wife was already inside it, eating.
"I'll have my supper first," he announced, "while you stay outside on
the cellar bottom and watch for Miss Snooper."
"I'm just as hungry as you are," his wife objected. "I don't want to
wait. You know you'll be a long time at your supper." What she really
meant was that Moses Mouse would be sure to overeat.
"Very well!" he said. "But don't blame me if Miss Snooper sneaks up on
us."