It began with Zee. By this time her young mistress had become very much
attached to her; and so indeed had all the "Dunlee party." Even Mrs.
Dunlee petted the kitten and said she was the most graceful creature she
had ever seen, except, perhaps, the dancing horse, Thistleblow. Eddo
loved her because "she hadn't any pins in her feet" and did not resent
his rough handling. The "little two" loved her because she allowed them
to play all sorts of games with her. They could make believe she was
very ill and tuck her up in bed, and she would swallow meekly such
medicine as alum with salt and water without even a mew.
"She is so amiable," said Edith. "And then that wonderful tail of hers,
mamma! 'Twould bring, I don't know how much money, at a cat fair. It's a
regular _prize_ tail, you see!"
An animal like this merited extra care. She was not to be put off like
an everyday cat with saucers of milk and scraps of meat; she must have
the choicest bits from the table.
"Mrs. McQuilken says the best-fed cats make the best mousers," said
Edith.
"Is that so, Miss Edith? Then the mice here at Castle Cliff haven't long
to live!" laughed good-natured Mr. Templeton, as he handed Zee's little
mistress a pitcher of excellent cream.
Edith was very grateful to Mrs. McQuilken for this remarkable kitten.
She had taken much pains with her pencil drawing of a cherub in the
clouds, intending it as a present for the eccentric old lady.
"Do you suppose she'll like it, mamma? You know she's so odd that one
never can tell."
Mrs. Dunlee was sure the picture would be appreciated. The cherub's
sweet face looked like Eddo's, and the clouds lay about him very softly,
leaving bare his pretty dimpled feet, and hands, and arms, and neck. On
Friday afternoon Edith took the picture in her hand and knocked with a
beating heart at the door of Number Five.
"Mrs. Me--McQuilken," said she, in a timid voice, on entering the room,
"you're so fond of pictures that I thought I'd bring you one I drew
myself. I'm afraid it's not so very, very good; but I hope you'll like
it just a little."
[Illustration]
Mrs. McQuilken was much surprised as well as gratified; and actually
there were tears in her eyes as she took the offering from Edith's hand.
She was a lonely old body, and never expected much attention from any
one, especially from children.
"Why, how kind of you, my dear! It's a beauty!" she exclaimed, gazing at
the cherub through her spectacles. She was a good judge of pictures.
"That face is well drawn, and the clouds are fleecy. Did you really do
it your own self--and for me? Thank you, dear child!"
Edith blushed with pleasure. She had by no means counted on such praise.
"I'll always be kind to old people after this," she thought. "I believe
they care more about it than you think they do."
But here they were interrupted by the very loud mewing of a cat out of
doors. They both ran downstairs to see what it meant.
"I do hope and trust it isn't my Zee," cried Edith in alarm.
But it was. They did not see her at first; she was in the back yard
behind the hotel. It seems a pan of clams had been left standing on the
back door-step; and Zee must have been frolicking about the pan, never
dreaming any live creature was in it, when one of the clams, attracted
by her black waving tail, had caught the tip of the tail in his mouth
and was holding it fast!
This was pretty severe. Being only an ignorant bivalve, the clam did not
know that what he had in his mouth was a very precious article, the
"prize tail" of a beautiful cat. But having once taken hold of it, the
clam was too obstinate to let go.
Poor Zee jumped up and down, and ran around in circles, mewing with all
her might. What had happened she did not know; she only knew some heavy
thing was dragging at her tail and pinching it fearfully. Every one in
the back of the house was busy; no one but Eddo heard Zee's cries. He
ran to the maid to ask "what made the kitty sing so sorry?" Whenever she
mewed he called it singing.
The maid looked out then and threw down her mixing-spoon for laughing.
It was an odd sight to see a cat prancing about, waving her plume-like
tail with a clam at the end of it! Nancy was sorry for the kitten, but
did not know how in the world to get off the clam.
"Take an axe! Take a hatchet!" cried Mrs. McQuilken.
And without waiting for Nancy she seized a hatchet herself, split the
shell of the clam, and let poor kitty free.
When Kyzie got home from school, Mrs. McQuilken had just mended Zee's
bleeding member with a piece of court-plaster. All the boarders were
grouped about on the lawn and veranda talking it over. Mrs. Dunlee held
in her lap a very forlorn and crumpled little bundle of kitty; and Edith
and Eddo were crying as if their hearts would break.
"That beautiful, beautiful tail!" sobbed Edith.
"Don't be unhappy about it, darling," said Aunt Vi, "it will heal in
time."
"I know 't will heal, auntie; but what I'm thinking of is, won't it be
stiff? Aren't you afraid 'twill lose the--the--_expression of the
wiggle?_"
No one even smiled at the question; everybody tried to comfort Edith.
And right in the midst of this trying scene another event occurred of a
different sort, but far more serious. It was little wonder that nobody
once thought of saying to Kyzie:--
"Well, Grandma Graymouse, you promised to tell us to-night how you like
your school."
The school was quite forgotten, and so was the injured kitten. It
happened in this way: As soon as the kitten had been placed in a basket
of cotton and seemed tolerably comfortable, Jimmy and "the little two"
went along the road as they often did to watch for the stage. "The
colonel" might be coming now at almost any time, to find the lost vein
of the gold mine, and they wanted to see him first of any one. Lucy had
her papa's watch fastened to the waist of her dress, and took great
pleasure in seeing the hands move. This was not the first time she had
been allowed to carry the watch, and she was very proud because papa had
just said, "See how I trust my little girl."
Jimmy had Uncle James's spy-glass.
"Nate thinks the colonel won't come till to-morrow; but I expect him
to-night. Let's go farther up," said Jimmy-boy.
They all climbed a little way and stood on a rock gazing down toward the
dusty road. They could see the roofs of several houses, and Lucy asked
why there was so much wire on them.
"Oh, that's to hold the chimneys on," was Jimmy's reply.
"How queer!"
"Not queer at all. I've seen lots of chimneys tied on that way."
Bab doubted this, but Lucy was proud to think how much Jimmy knew.
"Six minutes past five," said she, looking at the watch again. "It takes
these little hands just as long to go round this little face as it takes
a clock's hands to go round a clock's face. How funny!"
"Not funny at all," said Jimmy. "They're made that way. But be careful,
Lucy Dunlee, or you'll drop that watch. I shouldn't have thought papa
would have let you bring it up here. Did you tell him where we were
going?"
"No, I never," replied Lucy with a sudden prick of conscience. "I didn't
know we'd go so far. 'Twas you that spoke and said we'd go higher up."
"Well, you'd better let me take it, Lucy. I'm older than you are, and
I've got a little pocket, too, just the right size to hold it."
Lucy hesitated, not wishing to part with the watch, and not at all sure
that it would be safer with Jimmy than with herself. He was not a famous
care-taker.
"I don't see why you want to get it away when papa lent it to me and
it's fastened on so tight. How do I know papa would be willing?"
As she spoke, however, Jimmy was fingering the little chain to see if
he could undo the clasp which held it to her dress.
"There, I don't believe you could have got it off, Lucy, you didn't know
how."
"Why, I never tried--papa fastened it on himself--oh, Jimmy-boy, you
will be so careful of it, now won't you?"
For the watch lay in his hand, and she did not know how to get it back
again. When he had set his heart on anything Lucy usually gave up.
Barbara looked on in disapproval as the big brother put the watch in his
pocket.
It had long been Jimmy's unspoken wish to have a watch of his very own
like Nate Pollard and various other boys. How rich and handsome the
short gold chain looked! What a bright spot it made as it dangled down
his new jacket. He gazed at it admiringly, while Bab and Lucy took
turns in looking through the spy-glass.
"The stage is coming," they cried. Then they all started and ran down
the mountain; but as the stage drove up to the hotel no colonel
alighted, or at least, no one who looked like a colonel. Jimmy was
playing with the short gold chain which made a bright spot on his
jacket. He meant to restore the watch to its owner at dinner-time; but
it was early, he was not going in yet. And there was Nate Pollard
throwing up his cap and looking ready for a frolic.
"I stump you to catch me!" said Nate.
"Poh, I can catch you and not half try."
Jimmy-boy was agile, Nate rather heavily built and clumsy. But if Jimmy
had suspected what a foolhardy project was in Nate's mind he would have
held back from the race.
As it was, they both planted themselves against a tree, shouted, "One,
two, three!" and off they started. No one was watching, no one
remembered afterward which way they were going.