cats, both tigers, but very unlike each other. One was sleek looking,
full-grown with beautiful, large eyes, and very confiding in manner.
The other was a shy, timid, shrinking little creature, afraid of
everybody, and yet hunger evidently had driven her to seek help at our
door. Her coat was so rough and dirty, it was difficult to tell what
its real color was, and one eye was completely gone from its socket.
She was indeed a pitiable sight, and I dare say very few people would
have allowed her to enter their door. Mistress prepared her a plate of
salmon, and the moment she smelled the odor, she began to dance around
as if she could hardly wait till it was ready. When at last the plate
was handed down to her she stepped into it with both paws, and ate as
greedily as any dog I ever saw. Mistress let her have the dish all to
herself, and fed the rest of us from a different plate.
As soon as the poor creature’s hunger was appeased, without stopping to
wash, she went into a dark corner behind the cook-stove and lay down to
rest. While she thus lay there, mistress said to Bettie, “It seems to
me the kindest thing we can do to this poor creature is to gently put
her to sleep and end her troubles.”
“I think so, too,” said Bettie; “no one would care to have such an
unsightly animal around the house. She will never be anything but a
hapless vagabond, to whom death would be a blessing.”
But after all the little stranger was allowed to spend a few days of
real happiness, and when one morning we missed her, we knew that she
had gone to her long resting-place and was saved from further sorrow.
As to the big cat, mistress said she felt sure that she must be
somebody’s pet, and she told Bettie not to let her out under any
circumstances.
Several days afterward Budge told me that during the first night of the
big cat’s stay with us she confided to him that her reason for leaving
her home was the fact that a new housekeeper who had lately come, had
just made her life unendurable; and that in utter despair she had
wandered away not knowing whither to go.
The very next day after the stranger arrived she became the mother of
five kittens. I dread to think what would have become of the poor thing
and her helpless babies on that cold winter night, if mistress hadn’t
allowed her to stay. But no doubt the kind Providence directed her
safely to our door.
A day or two after the little kittens came, there was a notice in the
newspaper: “Lost, strayed or stolen, a full-grown tiger cat. Leave at
‘The Elms’ and get reward.” When mistress saw it she sent word to “The
Elms” and they sent the coachman, who identified the cat and took her
and her kittens home, wrapped up in a Buffalo robe and tucked in a
laundry basket which he had brought in the coupé. The people at “The
Elms” were so grateful to mistress for sheltering their pet that they
sent her a basket of beautiful flowers.
Of course, it is not to be expected that every lady will turn her
house into an asylum for stray cats; but I have often heard mistress
say, and so I believe it is true, that many parents would have less
cause to mourn over selfishness and ingratitude in their children if
they would set a more generous and unselfish example before them in
their own treatment of dumb and helpless creatures.
XXXII
A KITTIE PARTY
When my kittens were of the proper age mistress proposed they should
have a chance to see all their little friends, so we sent out
invitations like this:
“Meow will give a coming-out party on Saturday next from two till
six, to her kittens Hiddigeigei, Lady Jane Grey and Patsy, assisted
by Booker T. Washington, Mollie Scott, Budge and Goldie.”
The happy day came at last, sunshiny and bright, as if it had been made
expressly for our party, and at the appointed hour came also our little
guests. There were Marjory, Winifred, George and Doris, and my new
friends Frances, Arline, Earl, Lillian and Burt. These, with Booker,
Goldie, Budge, myself and the kittens, made just sixteen in all.
[Illustration: HIDDIGEIGEI, PATSY AND LADY JANE GREY]
Mollie Scott was also invited, but she did not come. After it was all
over she called and excused herself, saying she had never attended a
party, and didn’t know just how it would be; but that she had spent
most of the afternoon on the back fence, taking note of what was
going on, and that she thought another time she would venture to try
it. Said I, “The way to learn to do a thing is to do it, and you have
probably missed the chance of your life.”
At this Mollie gave me a very solemn look, and as she turned to go I
heard her mutter something to herself about “no use crying over spilled
milk.”
But to return to the party. Each of us big cats wore a wide ribbon sash
with a big bow tied at the back, but the little kittens wore narrow
ribbons tied around their necks. Goldie wore white, Booker crimson,
Budge blue, and I orange; and the kittens wore blue except Hiddigeigei
who wore pink. Our basket, handsomely decorated with fresh ribbon, was
placed in a sheltered corner of the library, and let me assure you that
we cats looked every bit as festive and gay as did our guests.
For a while the children wanted to do nothing else but play with the
kittens, and I was only sorry that I did not have enough to go around.
I never saw children handle kittens so carefully; no mauling, no
squeezing; they just laid them on their breasts or on their laps, and
stroked their backs and scratched their heads and chins, as if they all
knew just how kittens like to be treated. I half suspect that mistress
took them aside and showed them how.
The kittens enjoyed the party much more than we older ones.
Budge--poor, timid, bashful Budge--he never did like a crowd. When he
saw such a troop of children come in, he made for the basement, where
he remained in hiding behind the laundry stove till mistress brought
him up and put him on top of the high bookcase; and there he seemed
to feel secure, for none of the children could reach him. Booker and
Goldie spent most of the afternoon in hiding under the couch.
When my kittens had been played with long enough, I went into my
basket, and mistress understood just what I meant by it.
“Children,” said she, “you see the kittens’ mother thinks her babies
have had enough play for the present, and she has gone to her basket to
invite them to come to her to have some dinner and to take a nap. Now
set all the kittens down on the floor and see what they will do.”
When my kittens were set free I began crooning to them, and oh, how it
pleased the children to see the little things stand still a second,
prick up their ears, and then run as one man in the direction of the
sound that a tired kitten loves so well to hear.
In less time than it takes to tell it, the three were gathered at my
breast and in another minute they were purring contentedly, and Booker,
dear thoughtful child, stood guard in front of the basket.
Then some of the children sang beautiful songs about kittens and birds,
and Miss Wallace accompanied them on the piano. I liked Lillian’s song
best of all; I will tell you the words of it:
“A homeless little kitten
Came to my door one day,
‘I’m cold and starved, please let me in!’
Its sad cries seemed to say.
I took it up and shut the door
Upon the bitter storm,
And put the little shiv’ring thing
Before the fire to warm.
“I gave it milk to drink, and smoothed
Its pretty, soft gray fur.
‘Poor Pussy, stay with me,’ I said.
It answered with a purr.
And ever since that winter day
I have so happy been;
I gained a merry playmate when
I let my pussy in.”
When this song was finished they started a game of Puss in the Corner,
and they were just in the midst of it when the great Swiss cow-bell
rang, inviting the guests to luncheon. Then the children were formed
into line with mistress and Burt at the head, and off they marched
toward the dining-room to the tune of “The Stars and Stripes Forever.”
Several ladies assisted mistress with serving. The table was decorated
with daffodils, and indeed daffodils were conspicuous all over the
house. At each plate stood a little red basket filled with candy to
take home.
When my kittens were all fast asleep I too went to the dining-room, and
those happy faces were indeed a lovely sight. The children were just
having their ice cream and cake, and one of the ladies was playing a
soft, sweet air on the piano.
“This table-cloth is cleaner than ours,” said a voice as I entered, and
at this the ladies all smiled at each other.
“This is starshine candy,” said Marjory.
“No, it’s moonshine drops,” said Arline.
The fact is, it was sunshine chips, as I heard mistress tell Bettie
when the groceries came.
“How old is your little brother?” said Lillian to Doris.
“He is three months and six years,” said Doris.
“My little brother came on the 4th of July,” said Frances. “Papa bought
him instead of fireworks.”
The ladies smiled some more.
“Our little brother is only two days old,” said Lillian.
“I bet if my papa had known about it, he would have bought him before
your papa got him,” said Winifred.
At this the ladies all smiled again.
When luncheon was over, Frances engaged the attention of both old and
young by her skill as a climber and slider, and it seems to me that
twelve successful slides down the balustrade ought to have been enough
for her, but, no, she wanted more, and in the thirteenth slide--biff,
bang--down she went. But fortunately she landed on the couch, so that
she escaped with only a bruise on her knee, which mistress quickly
covered with court-plaster. But in descending, one of her heels struck
Earl in the stomach and knocked him against the wall, so that he got a
big bump on the back of his head.
Poor Earl tried hard not to cry, but the tears just oozed out in spite
of him. Mistress sent word to Mrs. Wallace, his grandmamma, and in a
few minutes she appeared with a remedy, and attended to the sore place
in such an efficient way as only grandmammas know how.
Booker turned the queerest somersaults, sideways, frontward and
backward trying to get his sash off, and Goldie and he engaged in
several pugilistic encounters to the great delight and amusement of the
children.
Finally I thought I’d show them what I could do, so I jumped on the
piano and played a tune for them. At this Budge took courage. He jumped
off the bookcase where he had been stowed away, and joined me on the
piano and we played a duet, the like of which has never been heard on
land or sea.
While we were still playing, a gentleman came with a big square box
which he opened up and set upon a very high three-legged stool. Then he
had mistress sit in front of it and the children all around her. The
curtains were drawn, and the room was darkened, when, whiz--something
blew up and made an awful flash, and everybody said “ah,” except poor
little Burt; he said, “ouch,” and began to cry. Some of the stuff from
the “flash” had blown toward him and burned his hand so that it became
very red and blistered. Mrs. Gafney rushed across to her house to get
some soothing oil that was said to be the best thing in the world for
burns, and Burt’s hand was bandaged up.
It began to look by this time as though the whole party would have to
be sent home in an ambulance; but the arrival of Don told us that it
was getting close unto six o’clock, for he had come to take Winifred
home; and in a few minutes all the children, quite unwillingly, began
to make ready for their departure.
As they bade us good-bye, they all said that they had had a very nice
time, and mistress pinned on the breast of each child one of those
beautiful daffodils; and so ended our party.
Here endeth also my story.
May the dear, kind Providence bless and keep you all.
LITTLE MAID SERIES
As the title suggests, this series is especially adapted to young
girls of from six to twelve years of age. They are pure stories told
in a simple, attractive manner that cannot fail to become popular
with mothers as well as their children.
[Illustration]
_DIMPLE DALLAS_
_Or the further fortunes of “A Sweet Little Maid.”_ BY AMY E.
BLANCHARD, _Author of “A Dear Little Girl,” “Thy Friend Dorothy,”
etc., etc. 12mo. Cloth. Illustrated._ $1.00.
A charming addition to the “Little Maid Series,” and a book that every
little maid will love. As the tale implies, it is a sequel to “A Sweet
Little Maid,” and we again meet dainty Dimple and funny little Bubbles,
with Florence, Rock, and all the other friends. Some new friends are
introduced, too, who do not prove nearly so agreeable as our old
acquaintances; in fact, Cousin Ellen makes Dimple’s home so unpleasant
for her that she at last runs away, and many a strange experience she
must pass through before she reaches home again.
_A DEAR LITTLE GIRL_
BY AMY E. BLANCHARD, _Author of “Taking a Stand,” “Thy Friend
Dorothy,” etc. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth._ $1.00.
This is a pretty, wholesome child’s story, one of the sort that
commends itself to children’s sympathies and will be conned again
and again. The author is Amy E. Blanchard, who has written several
other acceptable juveniles. No mother need hesitate ever putting this
or any other of Miss Blanchard’s stories into her little daughter’s
hands.--_Detroit Free Press._
Amy E. Blanchard is the author of quite a number of pure-toned stories
for girls, and her latest book is “A Dear Little Girl,” who won the
love of everybody through the expression of a character at once simple
and innocent.--_Philadelphia Call._
The story of a bright, charming, tender, and good-hearted little
girl, whose kindness, amiability, and natural and unaffected goodness
charm all who come in contact with her, and soften the heart even of
those who are inclined to be harsh and severe with children. It is
one of a number of books published lately which give an insight into
the feelings and motives of childhood. It indicates how their seeming
faults are frequently the result of their good impulses.
The simple story is well told, and will interest children and all who
are interested in them.--_Pittsburg Times._
_A SWEET LITTLE MAID_
BY AMY E. BLANCHARD, _Author of “A Dear Little Girl,” “Dimple
Dallas,” etc., etc. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth._ $1.00.
The heroines are a little white girl and a little black girl, two very
intimate friends. It is a charming story for little girls--charmingly
illustrated.--_Outlook._
This is a fascinating story, told in Miss Blanchard’s delightful style,
and it will be a very queer little maid that will not enjoy reading
about the good times enjoyed by Florence, Dimple and Bubbles and their
dollies.--_Richmond Times._
Miss Blanchard has the happy knack of writing in a way to interest
little children, and this simple tale is likely to interest
many a young reader where a more pretentious narrative would
fail.--_Indianapolis Journal._
Many charming stories for children have come from the pen of this
writer, and this new one adds another lovable girl to the number
with whom we have already become acquainted. They have their faults
and little tempers as well as their sweet ways, but we forgive them
and love them all the more. This Sweet Little Maid and her cousin
have good times together and also bad times when they get into
trouble, but through it all they claim our constant interest and
affection.--_Westminster Teacher._
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Vid. Numbers xxvii. 1-8.
[2] Vid. 1 Kings x. 1.
[3] Vid. “Der Trompeter von Saeckingen,” by Scheffel.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized or underlined text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.