two or three centuries, and a great many tales were told of witches
appearing in the form of cats to the persons they afflicted. The poor
unfortunate wretches who were tried for witchcraft, when forced by
abuse and torture to confess deeds which they never committed, almost
always clothed their familiar imp in the form of a cat, usually a black
one. And it must be confessed that there is something mysterious and
almost alarming in the appearance of a large and well-fed coal-black
cat. Then their property of emitting electrical sparks in cold
weather—a property which they possess in a greater degree than almost
any other animal, their great sagacity which is united to a degree of
independence or wilfulness which makes it very difficult to train them,
and the horrible and surprising noises in which they are accustomed to
indulge at their nightly meetings, all combine to render them a terror
to ignorant people whose resource it is to call everything witchcraft
which appears mysterious to their minds."
"I don't like cats!" said Agnes. "I think they are treacherous,
deceitful creatures. You never know what they are going to do. You may
be playing with them as peaceably as possible, and the first thing you
know up comes a paw, and you get a great scratch."
"I do not blame any cat for scratching you, Agnes," said Dora. "You are
always teasing them."
"They are often teased unintentionally by those who play with them,"
said Miss Fanny. "Cats are nervous creatures, and are frequently
annoyed by having their fur stroked the wrong way, and their ears
pulled. You may have observed with regard to yourself, that turning
your hair in a new direction will often make your head very sore and
uncomfortable."
"I have," murmured a little girl, whose long and thick hair was very
elaborately curled and braided. "I have often wished I hadn't any."
"Then you may appreciate the feelings of a cat under the same
circumstances, Adeline," replied Miss Fanny, smiling.
"I have often rubbed up our cat's fur to see the sparks fly out, but
I never thought of its hurting her," said Minnie. "I remember now he
never seemed to like it much, though he never scratched in his life.
And, Miss Fanny, he can open any door in the house, even one with
a round handle. He always comes up and opens mother's door in the
morning, and then goes down to breakfast with her."
"Aunt had a more knowing cat than that," remarked Tessy. "She used to
catch fish in the lake, and bring them up to the house. She once caught
a pike that weighed two pounds. She used to lie on a stone a little way
out from the bank to watch, and when she saw a fish coming, she would
knock it out of the water with her paw. At first we thought she must
steal them somewhere, but after a while we watched her, and saw how she
managed."
"She was a clever cat," said Miss Fanny. "It was the more remarkable,
as cats have usually such a great dislike to wetting their feet. We
had a cat, when we lived in the country, that used to go out shooting.
I do not mean that she actually used the gun with her own paws,"
she hastened to add, anticipating the exclamations of her auditors,
"but she used to accompany my brother, and seemed to enjoy the sport
amazingly. We had a great abundance of early cherries, and were in
consequence very much annoyed by the legions of cherry-birds, which
made their appearance with the first May Dukes, and never left a
perfect cherry on the tree. Scarecrows, bells, and other devices
were tried to no effect, and at last it became necessary to shoot
them. The slaughter was very great for two or three days. Lupa soon
comprehended the use of the gun, and as soon as my brother took up his
fowling-piece, she was on the alert. She would follow close behind him,
and stop when he did, crouching to the ground. The moment he fired, she
would spring forward, and she almost invariably caught the bird before
it came to the earth. As the game was abundant and my brother a capital
marksman, Lupa soon became very fat, and grew indifferent to this kind
of fare, after which she would amuse herself by dragging the dead birds
together and piling them up in heaps. This same old cat would drink
wine and even brandy, and was very fond of strong coffee, but she
disliked milk, and would take cold water in preference."
"Tody likes tea," said Marian; "mother gives him some almost every
night after she has finished her own, but Tabby never would touch
it. Oh, I am so glad we have found out what has become of Tabby! But
perhaps you would like to keep her, Theresa?" she added, seeing or
fancying a shade upon Tessy's countenance.
"Oh no!" replied Tessy. "You know I am going to school after New Year,
and I would rather you had her than not, since she belonged to you in
the first place."
The children's conversation was here interrupted by a call to supper,
which was bountiful and excellent, of course. Among the other beauties
of the table was a basket of nicely frosted cakes, each ornamented with
coloured sugar-plums, disposed in the form of a letter, there being one
for each little guest. Thus there was an "M" for Minnie, an "E" for
Emily, and a "T" for Theresa, and so on through the whole list. Now it
so happened that by some mistake there was only one "A" among them,
and the basket being passed first to Adeline, she took it as a matter
of course, so that when Agnes Warrington's turn came there was none
for her. Miss Fanny was very sorry, and looked again and again, but no
other "A" was to be found. Agnes looked very much displeased indeed,
and her anger would have found vent in something besides words if no
older persons had been present, but Mrs. Merriam and the young ladies
were in the room, and she did not exactly like to give way to her
temper before them.
"I will give Agnes mine," said little Virginia Haskall, Ella's cousin.
"If you turn the 'V' upside down, it will do very well for an 'A,' and
cousin Fanny will make me one some other time."
Fanny looked at Agnes, expecting to see her at once decline the offer,
but Agnes did nothing of the kind. She simply accepted it as a matter
of course, and soon disposed of it, without even thanking the generous
donor.
"Well, I would be ashamed to do that, any way!" said Adeline to her
next neighbour. "She might have had mine and welcome, only I wanted
to carry it to my little brother Albert, who has broken his leg, you
know. I thought it would please him, but I would rather have given it
to Agnes than have had dear little Virginia robbed of hers. I never
heard anything so mean—a little thing not six years old, and Agnes is
thirteen."
Adeline spoke in a whisper, but Agnes overheard her, and her already
ruffled temper was still farther provoked. She would not join in any
of the games after supper, objecting to everything proposed, and
conducting herself so rudely that Tessy and Barbara were extremely
mortified, and the latter resolved she would never go out with her
again.
"Well, girls, have you had a pleasant party?" asked Mrs. Warrington,
who was sitting in the parlour when they arrived at home.
"No," replied Agnes, snatching at the first word. "It was the dullest,
stupidest thing I ever saw, and the supper was miserable. There was not
half enough to go round."
"O Agnes!" exclaimed Tessy and Dora together, and Dora continued: "You
only say that because you did not get one of the lettered cakes, though
you did too, for Virginia gave you hers. I should have been ashamed to
take it if I had been you."
"And only think, mother," continued Agnes, unheeding her sister's
words, "that kitten is Ella Merriam's, and she is going to send for
it. She told Tessy she might keep it if she liked, but Miss Tessy said
she would rather they had it again as she was going to school, and she
could not trust it with any of us."
This was no careless exaggeration on Agnes's part, but a deliberate
lie. She knew perfectly well what her cousin had said, but she was very
angry with her for disregarding her signals for silence when the kitten
was first mentioned, and she was determined to have her revenge.
Mrs. Warrington turned to Theresa with a look of great displeasure, but
Barbara interposed before she had time to speak.
"That is not true, mother! Ella asked Theresa if she would like to
keep the kitten though they were plainly very anxious to have her back
again, and she answered that as she was going to school after the
holidays, she would rather the kitten were back at her own home. The
word 'trust' was neither spoken nor implied, and Agnes has drawn upon
her imagination for her facts. All the other children seemed to enjoy
the evening very much, and so I think would Agnes have done, if she had
taken the pains to behave like a lady."
She then informed her mother of Agnes's conduct. Mrs. Warrington was
for once seriously angry. She knew from experience that Barbara's
account was perfectly to be relied on, and she was very much annoyed
that Agnes should have made such a display in the house of Mrs.
Merriam, whom she respected more than almost any other friend she had.
Almost for the first time in her life, she reproved Agnes severely,
and declared she would not suffer her to go to another party during
the holidays. Agnes went away crying, very angry at her sister, and
determined to be revenged upon Theresa, whom she most unjustly regarded
as the cause of her disgrace.
The next day was bright and clear, though cold, and as usual all the
family went to church, except Agnes, who declared she had such a
headache that she could hardly keep her eyes open. Mrs. Warrington
admitted the excuse the more readily as she was quite hoarse, and
seemed to have symptoms of a severe cold. So she was left at home on
the sofa in the drawing-room with Tabby for company, and a pile of new
books for amusement, her mother charging her upon no account to expose
herself to the cold air.
[Illustration: She threw her into the snow.]
No sooner had the bells stopped ringing than Agnes turned her feet
off the sofa where she had been lying, and opening the parlour door,
looked out into the hall and listened. She saw no one, and heard
nothing except a distant sound of beating eggs and pounding down in
the kitchen. All the servants had gone to church, except the cook and
her assistant, who were busily engaged in the preparations for the
Christmas dinner. The time was a favourable one for accomplishing her
purpose.
In another moment, Tabby, who was lying peacefully before the fire,
washing her face and paws and thinking of home, felt herself rudely
snatched up and wrapped in an apron. Without stopping to put on bonnet
or overshoes, Agnes ran down stairs, out of the back door, and down a
lane, which led past the back of the barn. She went on through the deep
snow, without heeding the cold wind, till she came to a large piece of
unenclosed ground at some distance from the house, when, thinking she
had gone far enough, she unrolled her apron, and taking poor frightened
Tabby by the back of the neck, she hurled her from her as far as she
could into the snow. Then without stopping to see what had become of
the poor kitten, she ran home again as fast as she could go and slipped
into the house, congratulating herself upon having accomplished her
purpose unseen.
CHAPTER FOURTH.
AGNES'S REWARD.
AGNES had been so excited that she had not bestowed a thought on the
severity of the weather, but when she was once more in the parlour,
she found herself shivering violently. The snow had found its way into
her boots and clung to the hems of her skirt so that they were wet
through. And instead of changing them at once, as she should have done,
she contented herself with standing before the fire, till she felt
tolerably warm again, when she was glad to resume her place upon the
sofa, for the excitement had increased her headache, and she felt very
unwell.
Now that it was over, she began to feel rather frightened at what
she had done, for she knew how much her mother regarded Mr. and Mrs.
Merriam, and how angry she would be at any affront offered to them
or their children, and she almost wished she had allowed matters to
take their course. She was not altogether void of conscience, though
she seldom permitted the voice of that inward monitor to be heard, or
listened to her when she did speak. But now, as she lay on the sofa
with her head aching too much to allow her to fix her thoughts upon her
books, the still small voice made itself audible.
"Agnes Warrington," it said, "you have been guilty of a very
treacherous, wicked, and cruel action; treacherous and unkind toward
your cousin who never injured you and whose kindness and forbearance
have been unvaried towards you, since the first moment that she came a
guest into your mother's house; and cruel to a harmless and defenceless
little animal, as well as to the little girls who were joyfully looking
forward to the recovery of their pet kitten. All this you have been
guilty of, and you are now contemplating the telling of several lies to
conceal your fault!"
This and much more did conscience whisper into the ear of Agnes
Warrington on that Christmas morning, while she lay on the sofa—while
thousands of God's people, all over the land, were gathered in His
courts to praise Him for the gift of His dear Son, sent us on that day
for the salvation of the world—born of a woman, and coming in the shape
of a little child, that children might realize how the Son of God could
feel for the peculiar trials of children.
When Mrs. Warrington came home from church, she found Agnes very unwell
indeed, and suffering greatly both from headache and oppression of the
lungs. Agnes herself tried to make light of it, and assured her mother
that it was only a little cold and that her headache was caused by
something she had eaten the night before.
"Some of the cake was very rich," remarked Barbara, "and I rather think
Agnes ate a good deal."
"Perhaps it was Virginia's cake that disagreed with her," said Dora in
a half-whisper to Theresa; "I should think it would."
Tessy took no notice of the unkind remark, but Agnes heard it, and gave
her sister a look which told of anything but sisterly feelings.
"I think it is very wrong to give such rich cake to children," said
Mrs. Warrington, "but I do not believe it is that which now troubles
Agnes. She seems to have taken a severe cold, and I am really afraid it
will make her sick. Had you not better go to bed, Aggy, and not try to
sit up to dinner?"
"Oh no, mother, I would rather not. I think I shall feel better by and
by." Agnes exerted herself to sit up as she said this, and began to
talk quite gaily with her cousin and sisters about the party and the
presents they had received, though her contracted brow and now and then
a deep sigh, showed how much it cost her.
"Oh! And by the way!" exclaimed Tessy. "We saw Ella and Marian going
into church, and they said they would call for the kitten this
afternoon, when they came from their grandmother's, where they were
going after church. Do you know where Tabby is, Agnes?"
"No," replied Agnes, putting her hand to her head, "I have not seen her
since you went away."
"You had better find her and feed her, Tessy," said Mrs. Warrington, as
she gathered up her bonnet and furs. "I should not like Mrs. Merriam
think that we starved her while she was here."
Tessy hunted the house and barn all over, calling "Kitty! Kitty!" and
seeking in vain for her favourite.
"Isn't it queer, Agnes?" she said, returning to the parlour where her
cousin was now lying on the sofa, with her face turned away from the
light. "I cannot find Tabby anywhere. I have called her all over the
house and in the barn, and looked in the cellar and every place for
her. I wonder where she can be. She was lying here, I thought, when we
went away."
"She wanted to go out a little while ago," said Agnes, "and I got up
and opened the door for her. She went out towards the barn, and I
daresay she is curled up on the hay somewhere, or watching for a mouse."
If Tessy had suspected anything wrong, her suspicions might have been
strengthened by two circumstances, first, from her cousin's very
confused and hesitating manner, and secondly, from the fact that her
two statements contradicted each other, for Agnes had declared in the
first place that she had not seen Tabby. Thinking no evil, however, she
attributed her cousin's manner to her obviously increasing illness, and
went out to take another look for the missing kitten.
Not so Barbara. Accustomed to her sister's manner, she perceived that
something was wrong, and guessed at once that Agnes was concerned in
the kitten's disappearance. She said nothing, however, till she had
herself looked all over the house and grounds, satisfying herself that
Tabby was not upon the premises.
"How sorry I am!" said Tessy, as they were all assembled in the
parlour, waiting for the bell to ring for dinner. "How disappointed
Ella and Marian will be! I wish they had come for her this morning."
"It is very strange," remarked Mrs. Warrington. "The kitten seemed so
happy and contented here, I should hardly think she would have gone
away of her own accord."
"She has never gone away without hands, I am certain, mother," remarked
Barbara emphatically.
"What nonsense!" said Agnes peevishly. "Who do you suppose would
trouble themselves to put her out of the way?"
"Whoever it is, will be found out sooner or later," replied Barbara;
"you may depend upon that." She was about to add more, but was
interrupted by a ring at the door-bell.
"There is Ella now," said Dora, looking out of the window. "I see Fanny
and Sophia in the carriage."
"Miss Fanny and Miss Sophia," corrected her mother.
"How often shall I tell you, Dora, not to speak in that familiar way of
ladies older than yourself? Ask the little girls to come in, Tessy."
"Don't bring them up here, I beg of you," said Agnes. "My head aches
so, their chattering will drive me crazy."
But she spoke too late, and in a moment Ella and Marian were ushered
into the room. Like well-bred little girls as they were, they replied
politely to Mrs. Warrington's greeting, and repeated a message from
their mamma to her, but their eyes were wandering about the room in
search of their favourite.
Mrs. Warrington remarked it, and said kindly:
"You are looking for Tabby, my dears, and I wish she were here to
greet you, but I am sorry to say she is not to be found. She was here
at church time, apparently perfectly contented and happy, but she has
disappeared in the most mysterious manner, and I am afraid she has run
away."
The girls' eyes filled with tears. They had so confidently counted on
seeing their dear little Tabby again, that they could hardly keep from
crying at the disappointment. They asked about the circumstances, and
Agnes again repeated her story, but with such slight variations as more
and more to convince Barbara that her suspicions were well founded.
"Well, never mind," said Ella, after they had heard all that was to
be said on the subject of Tabby's disappearance, and Mrs. Warrington
had exhausted her praises of Tabby's beauty and docility. "I am sure
we are all very much obliged to you, for taking such good care of her
while she was here. If I only knew that she had a good home somewhere,
I should not care so much, but I cannot bear to think of her being lost
in the snow, and perhaps—" But Ella's voice failed her, and the eyes of
both sisters filled with tears, as they pictured to themselves their
little petted favourite starved to death, or lying frozen stiff and
stark under some fence or deserted building.
Agnes turned suddenly, as if stung with pain, and almost groaned aloud.
"Is your head so very bad, dear?" asked Marian, diverted at once from
her own grief by the thought of another's suffering. "How sorry I am! I
hope you are not going to be sick."
She put her hand into her little muff as she spoke, and after
exchanging a look with her sister, she pulled out a very large and
beautiful orange—a welcome sight at Christmas time.
"Please take this orange, Aggy," said she. "Perhaps it will do your
throat good. Aunt Hastings gave it to us, but I am sure she would
rather you had it. Such things taste so good when one is feverish."
She laid the orange down by Agnes, who uttered some indistinct words in
reply, and then repeating their thanks to Mrs. Warrington, they took
their leave.
"Well, I will say, Agnes, notwithstanding what you say about them, I do
think they are two of the sweetest girls in town," exclaimed Dora, as
soon as the door was shut.
"Wasn't it kind in them, mother, to give Aggy their orange?"
"Very kind indeed," replied Mrs. Warrington, with more than usual
animation. "I perfectly agree with you, Dora, and only wish you and
Aggy would imitate them. I am afraid neither of you would have been
willing to do the same, if the case had been yours."
"I shouldn't, I know," said Dora, who was much more straightforward
than her sister. "Not unless any one was very sick indeed, I mean."
Mrs. Warrington sighed, as she thought of the difference between her
children and those of her friend, and wondered what could be the cause
of it; for that it was in any degree owing to her she never imagined.
Perhaps if she had considered longer, she might have come to some
correct conclusion upon the subject, but it was always a great deal of
trouble for Mrs. Warrington to think, and besides, she was interrupted
by a call to dinner.
Agnes went down with the rest though her head was giddy, and she had
such a sharp pain in her chest, that she could hardly breathe without
crying out. But she was determined not to confess herself sick if
she could help it. Pain was too much for her, however; she could eat
nothing, and before dinner was over, she burst into tears and declared
she could sit up no longer.
Nothing had power to rouse Mrs. Warrington so effectually as the
illness of any of her children. She hastened to put Agnes to bed,
and sent off an express for the doctor. While helping her sister to
undress, Barbara chanced to feel the hem of her petticoat, which was
still quite wet.
"Why, Aggy," she exclaimed, "how wet all your clothes are, and your
stockings and boots are quite wet through! Where have you been to get
them into such a state?"
"I am sure I don't know," said Agnes, now really speaking with
difficulty. "Perhaps I got snow on them when I opened the door for the
kitten. I wish you would not talk, Barbara, it hurts my head so."
Barbara said no more, but her suspicions were now fully confirmed. It
was some time before the doctor arrived, and when he did come, Agnes
was so much worse that her mother was very much alarmed about her, nor
did the doctor's opinion tend to soothe her. He pronounced the disorder
to be a violent attack of inflammation of the lungs, requiring the most
active treatment. Agnes was bled, which somewhat relieved the pain and
oppression at her chest, but they returned with redoubled violence
in the evening, and it seemed almost doubtful whether she would live
through the night. Her head was very much disturbed, and her mind
wandered at times, but though she was very anxious to talk, they could
not understand what she said.
At last Tessy, who was sitting by her, distinguished the words, "Throw
away the kitten."
"There is no kitten here, dear Aggy," she said soothingly, thinking
that Agnes imagined the kitten to be on the bed. "That is only a fancy
of yours; the kitten is not here."
But Agnes was not satisfied, and kept trying to make herself
understood, repeating the word "kitten" again and again, with painful
emphasis.
"She must not talk so," said Barbara. "The doctor said she must not
speak a word. Never mind, Aggy," she added, answering to the thought
she believed to be in her sister's mind. "Don't talk about it now, I
daresay we can find the kitten in the morning, and then it shall be
sent home directly."
"And tell Ella I am sorry," said Agnes, more calmly.
"Yes, we will tell her so. Now do try to go to sleep like a good girl."
For a little time Agnes seemed more composed, but soon her delirium
returned, and she kept begging Theresa and Barbara to go and find the
kitten before it froze to death in the snow. She got no rest till
nearly daylight, when she fell into a troubled slumber, and George
coming in, sent the girls up stairs to take some rest.
"What made you speak so to Agnes?" asked Theresa, as they parted at
the top of the stairs. "Do you think she knows anything about Tabby's
disappearance?"
"I am quite sure of it," said Barbara. "Her stories about it did not
agree at all, and her manner was very confused, which led me to suspect
something wrong. And when I came to undress her, I found her clothes
all wet round the bottom, as though she had been out in the snow. Poor
child! I am afraid she will pay dearly for her malice. The doctor
admitted to me that he thought her in great danger."
Barbara kissed Theresa, and turned into her own room, while Theresa
went on to the apartment which she occupied together with her cousins.
Her entrance aroused Dora.