"MOTHER," said the yellow kitten, "is it true that we cats have nine
lives?"
"Quite, my dear," the brindled cat replied. She was a very handsome cat,
and in very comfortable circumstances. She sat on a warm Turkey carpet,
and wore a blue satin ribbon round her neck. "I am in the ninth life
myself," she said.
"Have you lived all your lives here?"
"Oh dear, no!"
"Were you here," the white kitten asked, in a sleepy voice, "when the
Turkey carpet was born? Rover says it is only a few months old."
"No," said the mother, "I was not. Indeed, it was partly the softness of
that carpet that made me come and live here."
"Where did you live before?" the black kitten said.
A dreamy look came into the brindled cat's eyes.
"In many strange places," she answered slowly; adding more briskly, "and
if you will be good kittens, I will tell you all about them. Goldie!
come down from that stool, and sit down like a good kitten. Sweep! leave
off sharpening your claws on the furniture; _that_ always ends in
trouble and punishment. Snowball! you're asleep again! Oh, well; if
you'd rather sleep than hear a story----"
Snowball shook herself awake, and the others sat down close to their
mother with their tails arranged neatly beside them, and waited for the
story.
"I was born," said the brindled cat, "in a barn."
"What is a barn?" asked the black kitten.
"A barn is like a house, but there is only one room, and no carpets,
only straw."
"I should like that," said the yellow kitten, who often played among the
straw in the big box which brought groceries from the Stores.
"I liked it well enough when I was your age," said the mother
indulgently, "but a barn is not at all a genteel place to be born in. My
mother had had a little unpleasantness with the family she lived with,
and, of course, she was too proud to stay on after that. And so she
left them, and went to live in the barn. It wasn't at all the sort of
life she had been accustomed to."
"What was the unpleasantness?" Sweep asked.
"Well, it was about some cream which the woman of the house wanted for
her tea. She should have said so. Of course, my mother would not have
taken it if she had had any idea that any one else wanted it. She was
always most unselfish."
"What is tea?"
"A kind of brown milk--very nasty indeed, and very bad for you. Well, I
lived with my brothers and sisters very happily for some months, for I
was too young to know how vulgar it was to live in a barn and play with
straw."
"What is vulgar, mother?"
"Dear, dear; how you do ask questions," said the brindled cat, beginning
to look worried. "Vulgar is being like everybody else."
"But does everybody else live in a barn?"
"No; nobody does who is respectable. Vulgar really means--not like
respectable cats."
"Oh!" said the black kitten and the yellow, trying to look as if they
understood. But the white one did not say anything, because it had gone
to sleep again.
"Well," the mother went on, "after a while they took me to live in the
farm-house. And I should have liked it well enough, only they had a low
habit of locking up the dairy and the pantry. Well, it would be tiresome
to go into the whole story; however, I soon finished my life at the
farm-house and went to live in the stable. It was very pleasant there.
Horses are excellent company. That was my third life. My fourth was at
the miller's. He came one day to buy some corn; he saw me, and admired
me--as, indeed, every one has always done. He and the farmer were
disputing about the price of the corn, and at last the miller said--
"'Look here; you shall have your price if you'll throw me that cat into
the bargain.'"
The kittens all shuddered. "What is a bargain? Is it like a pond? And
were you thrown in?"
"I was thrown in, I believe. But a bargain is not like a pond; though I
heard the two men talk of 'wetting' the bargain. But I suppose they did
not do it, for I arrived at the mill quite dry. That was a very pleasant
life--full of mice!"
"Who was full of mice?" asked the white kitten, waking up for a moment.
"I was," said the mother sharply; "and I should have stayed in the mill
for ever, but the miller had another cat sent him by his sister.
"However, he gave me away to a man who worked a barge up and down the
river. I suppose he thought he should like to see me again sometimes as
the barge passed by.
"Life in a barge is very exciting. There are such lots of rats, some of
them as big as you kittens. I got quite clever at catching them, though
sometimes they made a very good fight for it. I used to have plenty of
milk, and I slept with the bargee in his warm little bunk, and of nights
I sat and toasted myself in front of his fire in the small, cosy cabin.
He was very fond of me, and used to talk to me a great deal. It is so
lonely on a barge that you are glad of a little conversation. He was
very kind to me, and I was very grieved when he married a lady who
didn't like cats, and who chased me out of the barge with a barge-pole."
"What is a barge-pole?" the yellow kitten asked lazily.
"The only leg a barge has. I ran away into the woods, and there I lived
on birds and rabbits."
"What are rabbits?"
"Something like cats with long ears; very wholesome and nutritious. And
I should have liked my sixth life very much, but for the keeper. No,
don't interrupt to ask what a keeper is. He is a man who, when he meets
a cat or a rabbit, points a gun at it, and says 'Bang!' so loud that you
die of fright."
"How horrible!" said all the kittens.
"I was looking out for my seventh life, and also for the gamekeeper, and
was sitting by the river with both eyes and both ears open, when a
little girl came by--a nice little girl in a checked pinafore.
"She stopped when she saw me, and called--'Pussy! pussy!' So I went very
slowly to her, and rubbed myself against her legs. Then she picked me up
and carried me home in the checked pinafore. My seventh life was spent
in a clean little cottage with this little girl and her mother. She was
very fond of me, and I was as fond of her as a cat can be of a human
being. Of course, we are never so _unreasonably_ fond of them as they
are of us."
"Why not?" asked the yellow kitten, who was young and affectionate.
"Because they're only human beings, and we are Cats," returned the
mother, turning her large, calm green eyes on Goldie, who said, "Oh!"
and no more.
"Well, what happened then?" asked the black kitten, catching its
mother's eye.
"Well, one day the little girl put me into a basket, and carried me out.
I was always a fine figure of a cat, and I must have been a good weight
to carry. Several times she opened the basket to kiss and stroke me. The
last time she did it we were in a room where a sick girl lay on a bed.
"'I did not know what to bring you for your birthday,' said my little
girl, 'so I've brought you my dear pussy.'
"The sick girl's eyes sparkled with delight. She took me in her arms and
stroked me. And though I do not like sick people, I felt flattered and
pleased. But I only stayed a very little time with her."
"Why?" asked all the kittens at once.
"Because----but no; that story's too sad for you children; I will tell
it you when you're older."
"But that only makes eight lives," said Sweep, who had been counting on
his claws, "and you said you had nine. Which was the ninth?"
"Why, _this_, you silly child," said the brindled pussy, sitting up, and
beginning to wash the kitten's face very hard indeed. "And as it's my
last life, I must be very careful of it. That's why I'm so particular
about what I eat and drink, and why I make a point of sleeping so many
hours a-day. But it's your _first_ life, Snowball, and I can't have you
wasting it all in sleep. Go and catch a mouse at once."
"Yes, mamma," said Snowball, and went to sleep again immediately.
"Ah!" said Mrs. Brindle, "I'll wash you next. That'll make you wake up,
my dear."
"Snowball's always sleepy," said the yellow kitten, stretching itself.
"But, mamma dear, she doesn't care for history, and yours was a very
long tale."
"You can't have too much of a good thing," said the mother, looking down
at her long brindled tail. "If it's a good tail, the longer it is the
better."