CHAPTER XII.

BENNY.

Benny took possession of his kingdom, and ruled it with a firm, though

for the most part an indulgent hand. Miss Wealthy succumbed from the

first moment, when he advanced boldly toward her, and laying a chubby

hand on her knee, said, "I like you. Is you' hair made of spoons? it is

all silver."

Martha was his slave, and lay in wait for him at all hours with

gingerbread-men and "cooky"-cows; while the two girls were nurses,

playmates, and teachers by turns. Jeremiah wheeled him in the

wheelbarrow, and suffered him to kick his shins, and might often be seen

sedately at work hoeing or raking, with the child sitting astride on

his shoulders, and drumming with sturdy heels against his breast. One

member of the family alone resisted the sovereign charm of childhood;

one alone held aloof in cold disdain, refusing to touch the little hand

or answer the piping voice. That one was Samuel Johnson. The great

Doctor was deeply offended at the introduction of this new element into

the household. He had not been consulted; he would have nothing to do

with it! So when Miss Wealthy introduced Benny to him the day after the

child arrived, and waited anxiously for an expression of his opinion,

the Doctor put up his great back, expanded his tail till it looked like

a revolving street-sweeper, and uttering an angry "Fsss! spt!" walked

away in high dudgeon.

Benny was delighted. "Funny old kyat!" he cried, clapping his hands.

"Say 'Fsss' some more! Hi, ole kyat! I catch you."

Hildegarde caught him up in her arms as he was about to pursue the

retiring dignitary, and Miss Wealthy looked deeply distressed.

"My dears, what shall we do?" she said. "This is very unfortunate. If I

had thought the Doctor--but the little fellow is so sweet, I thought he

would be pleased and amused. We must try to keep them away from each

other. Or perhaps, if the little dear would try to propitiate the

Doctor,--you have no idea how sensitive he is, and how he feels anything

like disrespect,--if he were to _try_ to propitiate him, he might--"

"Vat ole kyat,

He's too fat!"

shouted Benny, stamping his feet to emphasize the metre,--

"Vat ole kyat

He's too fat!

_He_ ought to go

AND catch a rat!"

"Come, Benny!" said Hildegarde, hastily, as she caught a glare from the

Doctor's yellow eyes that fairly frightened her. "Come out with me and

get some flowers." And as they went she heard Miss Wealthy's voice

addressing the great cat in humble and deprecatory tones. As she walked

about in the garden holding the child's hand, Hildegarde tried to

explain to him that he must be very polite to Dr. Johnson, who was not

at all a common cat, and should be treated with great respect.

But Benny's bump of reverence was small. "Huh!" he said. "_I_ isn't

'fraid of kyats, sing-girl! You 's 'fraid, but I isn't. I had brown

kitties, only I never seed 'em. Dr. Brown is a liar!" he added suddenly,

with startling emphasis.

"Why, Benny!" cried Hildegarde. "What do you mean? You mustn't say such

things, dear child."

"He _is_ a liar!" Benny maintained stoutly. "He said ve brown kitties

was in my froat. Vey wasn't; so he's a liar. P'r'aps he's 'fraid too,

but I isn't."

For several days the greatest care was taken to keep Benny out of Dr.

Johnson's way. When the imperious mew was heard at the dining-room door

after dinner, the child was hurried through with the last spoonfuls of

his pudding, and whisked away to the parlor before the cat was let in.

Nor would Miss Wealthy herself go into the parlor when the Doctor had

finished his dessert, till she was sure that Benny had been taken out of

doors. Hildegarde was inclined to remonstrate at this course of action,

but Miss Wealthy would not listen to her.

"My dear," she said, "it does not do to trifle with a character like the

Doctor's. I tremble to think what he might do if once thoroughly roused

to anger. He is accustomed to respect, and demands it; and we must

remember, my dear, that even in the domestic cat lies dormant the spirit

of the Royal Bengal Tiger. No, my dear Hildegarde, we are responsible

for this child's life, and we must at any cost keep him out of the

Doctor's way."

But fate, which rules both cats and tigers, had ordained otherwise. One

day Hildegarde had gone out to the stable to give a message to Jeremiah,

and had left Benny playing by the back door, where Martha had promised

to "have an eye to him" as she shelled the peas.

[Illustration: "'OH, SUCH A DEE OLE KITTY!'"]

On her return, Hildegarde found that the child had run round to the

front of the house; and she followed in that direction, led by the sound

of his voice, which resounded loud and clear. Whom was he talking to?

Hildegarde wondered. Rose was upstairs writing letters, and Cousin

Wealthy was taking a nap. But now the words were plainly audible.

"Dee ole kitty! Oh, _such_ a dee ole kitty! Ole fat kyat, I lubby you."

Holding her breath, Hildegarde peeped round the corner of the house.

There on the piazza, lay Dr. Johnson, fast asleep in the sunshine; and

beside him stood Benny, regarding him with affectionate satisfaction. "I

ain't seed you for yever so long, ole fat kyat!" he continued; "where

has you been? You is _so_ fat, you make a nice pillow for Benny. Benny

go to sleep with ole fat kyat for a pillow." And to Hildegarde's mingled

horror and amusement, the child curled himself up on the piazza floor,

and deliberately laid his head on the broad black side of the sleeping

lexicographer. The great cat opened his yellow eyes with a start, and

turned his head to see "what thing upon his back had got." There was a

moment of suspense. Hildegarde's first impulse was to rush forward and

snatch the child away; her second was to stand perfectly still. "_Dee_

ole kitty!" murmured Benny, in dulcet tones. "P'ease don't move! Benny

_so_ comfortable! Benny lubs his sweet ole pillow-kyat! Go to s'eep

again, dee ole kitty!"

The Doctor lay motionless. His eyes wandered over the little figure, the

small hands nestled in his own thick fur, the rosy face which smiled at

him with dauntless assurance. Who shall say what thoughts passed in that

moment through the mind of the representative of the Royal Bengal Tiger?

Presently his muscles relaxed. His magnificent tail, which had again

expanded to thrice its natural size, sank; he uttered a faint mew, and

the next moment a sound fell on Hildegarde's ear, like the distant

muttering of thunder, or the roll of the surf on a far-off sea-beach.

Dr. Johnson was purring!

After this all was joy. The barriers were removed, and the child and the

cat became inseparable companions. Miss Wealthy beamed with delight,

and called upon the girls to observe how, in this most remarkable

animal, intellect had triumphed over the feline nature. She was even a

little jealous, when the Doctor forsook his hassock beside her chair to

go and play at ball with Benny; but this was a passing feeling. All

agreed, however, that a line must be drawn somewhere; and when Benny

demanded to have his dinner on the floor with his "sweet ole kyat," four

heads were shaken at him quite severely, and he was told that cats were

good to play with, but not to eat with. In spite of which Rose was

horrified, the next day, to find him crouched on all-fours, lapping from

one side of the Doctor's saucer, while he, purring like a Sound steamer,

lapped on the other.

Benny did another thing one day. Oh, Benny did another thing! Rose was

teaching him his letters in the parlor, and he was putting them into

metre, as he was apt to put everything,--

"_A_, B, _C_, D,

_Fiddle_, diddle,

_Yes_, I see!"

And with each emphasis he jumped up and down, as if to jolt the letters

into his head.

"Try to stand still, Benny dear!" said gentle Rose.

But Benny said he couldn't remember them if he stood still. "_A_, B,

_C_, D! _E_, F, _jiggle_ G!" This time he jumped backward, and flung his

arms about to illustrate the "jiggle;" and--and he knocked over the

peacock glass vase, and it fell on the marble hearth, and broke into

fifty pieces. Oh! it was very dreadful. Mrs. Grahame had brought the

peacock vase from Paris to Miss Wealthy, and it was among her most

cherished trifles; shaped like a peacock, with outspread tail, and

shining with beautiful iridescent tints of green and blue. Now it lay

in glittering fragments on the floor, and timid Rose felt as if she were

too wicked to live, and wished she were back at the Farm, where there

were no vases, but only honest blue willow-ware.

At this very moment the door opened, and Miss Wealthy came in. Rose

shrank back for a moment behind the tall Japanese screen; not to conceal

herself, but to gather her strength together for the ordeal. Her long

years of illness had left her sensitive beyond description; and now,

though she knew that she had done nothing, and that the child would meet

only the gentlest of plaintive reproofs, her heart was beating so hard

that she felt suffocated, her cheeks were crimson, her eyes suffused

with tears. But Benny was equal to the emergency. His cheeks were very

red, too, and his eyes opened very wide; but he went straight up to Miss

Wealthy and said in a clear, high-pitched voice,--

"I've broke vat glass fing which was a peacock. I'm sorry I broke vat

glass fing which was a peacock. I shouldn't fink you would leave glass

fings round for little boys to hit wiv veir little hands and break vem.

You is old enough to know better van vat. I know you is old enough,

'cause you' hair is all spoons, and people is old when veir hair is

spoons,--I mean silver." Having said this with unfaltering voice, the

child suddenly and without the slightest warning burst into a loud roar,

and cried and screamed and sobbed as if his heart would break.

Rose was at his side in an instant, and told the story of the accident.

And Miss Wealthy, after one pathetic glance at the fragments of her

favorite ornament, fell to wiping the little fellow's eyes with her fine

cambric handkerchief, and telling him that it was "no matter! no matter

at all, dear! Accidents _will_ happen, I suppose!" she added, turning

to Rose with a sad little smile. "But, my dear, pray get the dust-pan at

once. The precious child might get a piece of glass into his foot, and

die of lockjaw."

Hildegarde's Holiday: A Story for Girls · 第 12 / 18 章