THE LADY GAY CAT
Just here something extraordinary happened, and I must say in
connection with it, that I have marvellous luck in remeeting persons
and animals.
My master suddenly exclaimed, “I am frightfully thirsty, Boy. Let us
stop at this nice little cottage, and see if that old lady in the
window will give me a drink.”
Master drew up the car by the side of the road, got out, and I jumped
after him, and whom do you think I saw rolling on a bed of cat-nip
under the kitchen window--my acquaintance of a night some time ago--the
Lady Gay cat.
She knew me at once, and with a surprised purr sprang toward me. “How
do you do, dog, I am glad to see you. I believe you saved my life by
getting me to stop stuffing myself. It was my only pleasure in that
dreadful place, and it cost some effort to give it up.”
“Do tell me about yourself,” I begged her, “and hurry up. Master won’t
wait long, I’m sure.”
She smiled the smile of superior knowledge. “Yes, he will, when Granny
gets talking to him. She’s the most crackajack old woman you ever saw.”
“Her face looked fine,” I said, “as I saw it through the window.”
“Ah! she’s the woman for me,” said the cat fervently, “but you want to
know how I got back to her. Just after that evening I saw you, things
began to go badly at the eating-place. The help broke the dishes, and
got saucy, the people off the street didn’t patronise us, the man broke
his leg, and the woman got melancholy. One day when she sat staring at
the floor, I happened to pass in front of her.
“‘I believe it’s that black cat,’ she said, springing up and running to
the room where her husband lay in bed. ‘We’ve had bad luck ever since
we picked her up.’
“‘Don’t be a fool,’ he said roughly.
“But he couldn’t stop her. ‘It’s true,’ she said, ‘I’ve heard bad luck
always follows stolen animals, and your luck don’t change till you take
’em back.’
“The man was quite angry, but he couldn’t change her. Didn’t she, the
next Sunday, in spite of their lack of money, take the train and bring
me out here.
“She brought the basket in which she had confined me right in here
to Granny. ‘Look here,’ she said (she is a great, fat woman and very
outspoken), ‘I did an awful thing a few weeks ago. I stole the cat I
saw sitting near this house. I don’t know whether it’s yours or not,
but I want you to help me get it back to its rightful owner. I believe
it brought a kind of spell on me.’
“Granny opened the basket, and oh! how gently she took me out and
stroked my fur. ‘It’s my cat,’ she said, ‘and I thank you for bringing
her back. Sit down, and I’ll make you a cup of tea.’
“The woman was very glad to sit down, and have some tea and talk, after
her ride in the train, and while I licked my fur into shape, I listened
to what my dear old Granny said to her. Now, I want to tell you this,
just to convince you what a good mistress I had, for you seemed to
think I was a little soft to mourn so much.
“Said Granny, ‘Why did you steal my cat?’
“‘To hunt mice,’ said the woman. ‘An eating-house always draws them.’
“‘But, you could have got one in the city. Why take my little friend,
who loves the country?’
“‘City cats ain’t no good,’ said the woman. ‘They’re all sick, except
the rich cats that have a nice place to play.’
“‘Stealing is always wrong,’ said Granny.
“‘You bet it is,’ said the woman. ‘I ain’t goin’ to steal nothin’
again. I was brought up right. I had a good mother.’
“‘How is your business getting on?’ then asked Granny, for she likes to
know all about any one she sees.
“‘Rank,’ said the woman, ‘the place needs a new fit-out, and the
landlord won’t do it.’
“‘By fit-out, what do you mean?’ asked Granny.
“‘I mean new paper, new linoleum, some mirrors--folks love to stare at
themselves, and I want a little closet fitted up with a looking-glass
and a wash basin, so the shop-girls can fix their hair, and powder
their faces when they comes in to eat.’
“‘How much would it cost?’ asked Granny.
“‘Two hundred dollars at the least,’ said the woman in a dreary way.
‘It’s a big place.’
“Granny went to her grandmother’s soup-tureen in the closet, and took
out her stocking. She has a stocking, you know, but you must not tell
any one. She doesn’t believe much in banks.”
“She wasn’t going to give the woman money, was she?” I inquired.
“Wait and see,” said the cat, who spoke quite slowly and mouthed her
words, as if she did not often have a listener.
I find that longing to talk with cats and dogs and human beings too. So
many are ready to talk--so few want to listen.
Well, the black cat went on to tell me that the woman looked as amazed
as if she had seen a ghost, when good old Granny began counting out the
five dollar bills.
“‘You don’t mean to say you’re going to lend me the money,’ she
exclaimed.
“‘Just what I’m going to do,’ said Granny. ‘I’ve two good sons. I
brought ’em up right, and they slip me in a five-dollar bill every time
they write. I’m going to lend you what I’ve got.’
“‘You’re going to lend me money,’ cried the woman, ‘when I stole your
cat?’
“‘You’re going to be a better woman in the future, than you have been
in the past,’ said Granny. ‘I can see it in your eye.’
“Then the woman broke down and cried, but recovered herself when Granny
began to count the money. They went over it together, and made out one
hundred and ninety-five dollars.
“‘Take it,’ said Granny, holding out the stocking, ‘and bring it back
when you get good and ready. There’s no hurry.’
“The woman held tight on the stocking, but she said quite anxiously,
‘How much interest will you charge?’
“‘No interest,’ said Granny.
“This broke the fat woman all up. She cried and sobbed, and when she
found in addition that Granny didn’t want even an I. O. U., she hugged
and kissed her, as if she had been her daughter. She told Granny all
that had ever happened to her, and they became great friends on the
spot.”
“Hurry up,” I said to the cat, “I see master drawing on his gloves.”
We had moved into the cute little hallway of the cottage, and I could
look in through the kitchen door and see master talking to the old lady
who had made him a cup of tea just as she had done for the fat woman. I
think he was telling her about the baby, for she had a photograph album
on the table between them, and had been pointing out pictures of little
children to him.
“That’s a fine story,” I said--“what’s the end?”
“There isn’t any end,” said the black cat triumphantly. “It’s still
going on. The woman comes out here every Sunday evening when trade is
low, and she brings goodies to Granny, and Granny goes in to see her
once a week, and goes to a show with her, and tells me all about it
when she comes home.”
“And the restaurant,” I said, “did they make it over?”
“Granny says it’s a dream now, with bright yellow and red and purple
flowers on the wall, and a fine mirror, and lots of water and towels,
and there’s a big crowd all the time.”
“And the money?” I went on.
“Granny’s getting it all back--ten dollars a week, and the woman loves
her like a daughter. Granny never had a girl, just boys.”
I pushed my inquiries a little further, “And how does the woman treat
you?”
“Like a Christian. She says, ‘No one need ever say nothin’ agin’ black
cats to me. There’s more in animals than most folks reckon.’”
“Good-bye,” I said running after my master who had shaken hands with
the old woman, and was jumping into the machine. “That’s a fine story.
I’m mighty glad you had a safe exit from your troubles.”
“Call again,” said the cat to me, and “Call again,” called Granny to
master, as we sped away.
The next interesting thing that happened to me was the home-coming of
the baby. My! my! what a fuss--the apartment refurnished, renovated,
fumigated, aired and reaired. Master, whistling as cheerfully as a
school-boy, gave up his lovely front room and bath to his little
pickaninny.
“You and I won’t mind the view of the backs of apartment-houses, will
we, Boy?” he said to me.
Of course I didn’t mind. Anything to make him happy, and to keep with
him. I was mortally afraid he would get like those silly nurses, and
send me out of the house.
At last, the great day came, and master and I took the car out to the
hospital. Mistress all wrapped up and veiled, and baby and nurse got
into it, and we tooted back to the city.
Master had warned the maids that mistress had got very thin and
nervous, and they must be extra gentle and quiet in their manner with
her. They were lovely to her face, but they almost cried in the kitchen
over her changed looks.
“Oh! dear,” whimpered cook, “ain’t she the holy fright--the darlin’
thing,” and Annie said something even worse. However, from that day on,
they never criticised her as sharply as they had before. The baby had
brought a new spirit into the house.
My dear master still thought his wife was beautiful, and I could see
that he was perfectly terrified, lest she should eat too many sweets
and get fat again. He offered her a diamond necklace, if she would stop
eating chocolates, and he watched her at the table, and coaxed her not
to touch any puddings that had a rich sauce.
One day, he found a little bit of brown paste on her upper lip.
“Dearest,” he said anxiously, “have you been eating chocolates?”
She blushed like a naughty child. “Just one,” she said; “nurse had
some. But I won’t do it again,” she went on shaking her head, “I’m
really anxious to please you, Rudolph.”
He kissed her quite warmly for him, and pushing the table away, sat
down quite close beside her, and began to read.
I was delighted that she liked to have him read to her now, but it made
a great difference to me. She used to watch the clock with cunning
eyes, and get more and more interested in what he was reading, the
later the evening grew. Sometimes, she asked a question which did not
exactly fit in, for example when he was declaiming about the war in
Poland, and she said, “I always did dislike Spaniards.”
He laid down his book. “I said nothing about Spaniards, my dear.”
Her thoughts had been wandering, and she couldn’t speak till he gave
her a clue. “I was reading of the woes of the Poles.”
“That is what I meant,” she said, “Poles of course, I never did care
for them.”
“I didn’t know you had ever met any,” he said dreamily, then he plunged
again into his book.
She was nearly dead with sleep that night, and soon she said, “Rudolph,
would you just read me something about children, before I go to bed?”
He put down the war-book, and took up one of poetry. I was sleepy too,
but I caught a phrase, “The cry of the children,” and later in the
night, this phrase came back to me.
We had no walk--it was too late to go when mistress went to the baby,
and master said to me, “Let us turn in too, Boy-Dog.”
It was good we got a little sleep early in the night, for we had rather
a disturbed time later.
While master was undressing, he talked to me about children. “Poor
little wretches,” he said. “How much they have to cry about. So many
troubles that they outgrow with age.”
I listened to him with interest. I used not to know much about
children, for I had never been thrown much with them, my owners being
mostly childless or unmarried persons. However, as I told Gringo when
I first met him, I had a great respect for the very young of the human
kind, and I thought them remarkably clever.
Since the baby came, I had been observing him closely. His little
face looked to me very wise, and sometimes his expression was almost
painful, as if he were trying to tell us something of a wonderful place
he had come from. But the poor little soul had no words to express
his thoughts. He just waved his little fists, and rolled his head in
despair.
Master had gone quite daffy on the subject of babies. Dating from the
day that he had heard of the arrival of the baby, he stared at every
child he met in the street. He gave pennies to poor children, and
watched them with delight when they ran to a candy shop. He stopped the
perambulators of rich babies, and begged permission of the nurses to
look at them. All babies were dear to him, because he had one of his
own.
To come back to this night, I slept for a while, then I woke up
with a feeling of great distress. Some one was in trouble near me. I
could hear nothing, smell nothing, but I knew it was so, and I sprang
uneasily from the big chair where I slept, and went to my master’s bed.