SERENA ASTONISHES US
Serena stood up. She was addressing the audience, and her imaginary
glasses were more in evidence than ever.
“Mr. Chairman, and ladies and gentlemen,” she said with a slightly
scornful dwelling on “gentlemen,” as she turned for an instant toward
Jimmy Dory, “the subject before us, as I look at it, is this. The family
is a sacred, collective body of persons, or cats, who live in one house,
and under one head or manager,” and she gracefully bowed to our father.
“Now, has one member of this body a right to violently and arrogantly
detach itself, without the consent of the others?”
“Yes, it has,” grumbled Jimmy Dory under his breath. “Oh, meow! meow!
Come off the roof, pussy, and talk sense.”
I don't think Serena heard him, for she drew a long breath and went on.
“If such a thing should happen, that one member of this sacred,
collective body should wish to withdraw, or form outside connections of
its own, methinks it would be most compatible with reason for that
member to be one of the older members of this same sacred family.”
“Oho!” purred Jimmy Dory in my ear. “The green-eyed monster has got our
sister by the tail. She's jealous of the youngest member of the sacred
collective body.”
“To condescend to the present case,” pursued Serena, steaming grandly
along with her speech, “should a young kitten undertake all alone, a
long and perilous journey into the wilds of an unknown land?”
Jimmy Dory clapped his paws together. “Yes, yes, she should.”
Serena glared at him. “No, a thousand times no. Do not risk the Benjamin
of the family in any wild and impracticable search for happiness. Rather
let the young and frivolous creature remain within the circle of the
sacred family. Let one of the older members heroically and generously
offer herself on the altar of family affection. Let the kitten stay and
comfort the declining years of its aged parents. Let the dear, sister
cat go.”
She had to stop here. No one could hear a word of what she was saying on
account of Jimmy Dory's actions. He suddenly fell over on the heap of
cushions. He just yelled with delight. Serena glared angrily at him for
a few instants. Her speech was not half done. Then, as he did not
recover, she took to slapping and pinching him. Finally, she pushed him
on the floor.
Jimmy Dory rolled over and over, kicking enjoyably, and just shrieking
with laughter and wickedness. He only controlled himself when my father
joined Serena, and they both cuffed and beat him into submission.
I never saw my father, the Piebald Prince, in such an unprincelike rage.
“Stand there, sir,” he said, holding Jimmy Dory in a corner, “and
explain yourself,” and he gave him another whack to bring him to.
“Oh! spare your wrath for mercy's sake,
And let me just a few breaths take,”
gasped Jimmy. “I will explain. I will electrify you, my revered and
honored sire. You have been deluded, sir; basely deluded and humbugged.”
“What do you mean, you young villain?” inquired our parent, still
holding Jimmy in the corner, and gazing suspiciously over one shoulder
toward the door, as if fearful that some wicked stranger had entered the
room. “Nay, sir,” panted Jimmy Dory, with a ludicrous imitation of
Serena's grand manner, “the danger lies not without, 'tis within. We are
all victims of a fraud, sir, a shameless, lying fraud.”
My poor father was so bewildered that he did not know what to do, and
yet he might have known that it was only some of Jimmy Dory's tricks.
“If you don't explain yourself,” he said furiously, “I will give you the
greatest mauling that you have ever had yet.”
Jimmy Dory partly recovered himself. “Sir, I would not have you soil
your paws with the fighting that you so much detest. Now, listen, and
your wrath will be diverted from your hopeful kitten son, to your eldest
hopeful kitten daughter. Our Serena, sir, our talented eldest sister,
has ambitions outside this same sacred family.”
For answer, our father shook him.
Jimmy Dory went on unconcernedly. “You yourself, sir, have often pointed
out to me the fact that cat nature is full of contradictions. Would you
dream that cultured, domestic, home-loving, sister Serena has ambitions
beyond our domestic hearth, that in cat spirit she daily and nightly
roams the world, in search of adventure?”
“You are a story-teller,” responded my father excitedly. “Stop these
aspersions on your sister's character.”
Jimmy Dory put up a protesting paw, and went on, “A long time I have
suspected it. When sister Black-Face went out into the world, I fancied
that sister Serena slightly envied her. Now my suspicions are verified.
Your eldest daughter, sir, is trying to pull the hair over your
venerable eyes. She wants you to recall Black-Face, and let her take her
place at the Denvilles'.”
My father was just about to shake him again, when Jimmy Dory dexterously
wriggled himself away and cried, “Look at her! Is not guilt painted on
her shameless face?”
We did look at her, and if ever a cat looked guilty Serena did. She
stood with drooping head—no words came to her.
There was an awful silence, then my father said to her, “Serena, do you
wish to go out into the world, and leave us?”
“Meow!” she said faintly.
“Then go!” he replied sternly, and he turned his back on her.
It was a fearful blow to my father. He had so prided himself on Serena's
beauty, her accomplishments, her devotion to him, her love for her home.
Now she not only had deceived and flattered him, but keenest pang of
all, she wished to leave him, and go in search of those, as he calls
them, vulgar adventures, such as I am having.
Serena felt dreadfully, and so did my mother. Jimmy Dory did too, for he
suddenly stopped grinning, and making a goose of himself, and went and
lay down in a corner.
“Come,” said Serena under her breath to me, “let us depart.”
“Do you really intend going away with me?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said sulkily and firmly.
“Are you going to the Denvilles'?”
“Of course,” she replied snappishly; “where else should I go?”
“Oh, very well!” I returned, “just as you wish. Of course I have taken
one cat there already. I suppose there is a limit—”
She pretended not to hear me, and walked slowly toward the doorway. When
we got there, my mother stood in it. She gave Serena a dreadful look,
then she put her paws round her neck.
“Oh, get away, mother,” said Serena peevishly pushing her aside. “You
have never understood me.”
I went close up to my dear mother. I rubbed against her, I licked her
sad face, then I said to Serena, “You go on—I am going to stay at home.”
“Do you suppose I will go to the Denvilles' without you?” she said
angrily. “Come on, this very instant!” and she bit me on the neck.
“Go,” purred my mother softly, then she turned her head away, and closed
her eyes. The parting was too bitter for her.
We had all been so used to Serena's domination, that I stupidly followed
her. When we got to the hall door I paused. “Serena,” I said, “I must
wait till little Mary comes for me.”
“Goose,” she replied, “and how am I to get to Beacon Street?”
“Perhaps they will take you.”
“That would be very likely,” she said ironically, then she just screamed
for Gerty to come and open the hall door.
Soon we found ourselves on the sidewalk. Serena led the way. “Oh! isn't
this glorious,” she said, sniffing the fresh air. “How delightful is
liberty! This is what I have been pining for in that dull house of ours.
I have been longing for freedom, for an opportunity to preach the gospel
of culture. How I shall astonish those Maine cats!”
I was so puzzled that I did not know what to do. What would the
Denvilles think of me? I was a regular cat agent.
“Don't go in the front door,” commanded Serena when we got to the house.
By the way, we had several frights going down—two dogs chased us, but as
it was the middle of the afternoon, the streets were full of
well-dressed people, and Serena and I were sharp enough to keep near
them, and they soon drove the dogs away.
“Why don't you want to go in the front door?” I asked.
“Because I want to see the dogs. Haven't I had my curiosity excited on
their subject?”
Stupidly forgetting that Mona and Dolly would be out for their daily
walk with Mr. Denville, I conducted her to the kennels. Of course, they
were vacant, so I led her in the house, through the wash-room, kitchen
and store-rooms.
The cook met us in the lower hall. “Oh, what a beauty cat!” she
exclaimed when she saw Serena. “I say, Rosy and Bridget, come here.”
Serena, in great gratification, purred round the three women, and held
aloft her handsome tail.
“She beats the little fellow hollow,” said the cook, staring at me; “yet
there is a look of the beauty in the fright. Where do she come from, I
wonder.”
Rosy, the house-maid, was laughing. “She beats the Dutch—that little
chappie Black-Face does. She is always bringin' cats home.”
“Lead on to the upper regions,” said Serena in my ear. “I am tired of
this vulgar admiration.”
I did lead on. Serena glanced approvingly in all the rooms as we passed.
She liked the dining-room, and reception-room, but particularly the
library.
“There is culture for you,” she said surveying the books. “Mrs. Darley
hasn't half as many tomes as these.”
“What do you mean by tomes?” I inquired.
“A tome means as many writings as are bound in a volume, and a volume
means a book, goosie—show me your bedroom.”
To get to my room we had to pass Slyboots in the hall.
“Introduce me,” said Serena imperiously.
Quaking on my velvet paws, I walked up to the big sofa by the window.
“Slyboots,” I said, “my sister Serena wishes to be introduced to you.”
Slyboots shut her eyes, and pretended to go to sleep.
“What a charming vista,” remarked Serena going close up, and peering out
over her shoulder at the long avenue of trees on the Common.
Like a flash, Slyboots put up her paw and scratched her right down the
nose.
“You rude thing!” gasped Serena, and she fell back.
“Come in here,” I said, and rushed into Mary's bedroom. Of course, as
Serena was my sister, I had to let her get up on my bed, and for an hour
she made me sit and lick her nose. It was quite sore, but my licking
kept it from swelling, and making her look ugly.
After a long time I heard the carriage stop before the house, then
little Mary ran up-stairs. She caught me in her arms, and hugged me.
“You darling thing, I was afraid you were lost. Why did you not wait for
me?” Then her eye fell on Serena. “Why, pussy dear,” she said, “how did
you get here?—Mamma, Mamma,” and she ran in the hall, and met Mrs.
Denville who was just coming up-stairs. “Here is one of Mrs. Darley's
pussies. We must send her right back.”
Mrs. Denville looked puzzled. However, she rang the bell in Mary's room,
and sent for Anthony. Serena did not resist. She knew that this would
probably happen. She fawned on Mrs. Denville and Mary, and purred round
them, but they did not understand her.
Anthony took her home, and in an hour she was back again.
Mrs. Denville returned her once more, and this time, Serena got back
before Anthony did. Then Mrs. Denville began to comprehend the affair,
and, smiling peculiarly, she called Serena, and went into her own room.
“Harold,” she said, “are you here?”
Mr. Denville came out of his dressing-room in his shirt sleeves, and
stopped rubbing his face with a towel to look at us as we stood there,
his wife, Serena and I.
“Well!” he said expectantly, “do I see double, or have you another
Black-Face there?”
“It is Black-Face's sister,” replied Mrs. Denville, “and she is acting
so strangely. She won't stay at home, and Anthony says that Mrs. Darley
is very much amused, and sends word for us to keep her if we wish her. I
thought cats liked their homes.”
“So they do,” said Mr. Denville, “as a general thing, but there are cat
cranks as well as human cranks. Come here, runaway.”
Serena glided up to him. Oh! the grace and elegance of her motions!
“Dear me!” he said, “what style—what manners! We have something pretty
high-toned here, Maud.”
“But we don't want three cats,” said his wife with a laugh.
“Ship them to Maine,” he replied, and he laughed too, and went back into
his room.
Serena was in an ecstasy. She posed, she swam through the air, she threw
out her chest, she held up her head. She was addressing an audience of
country cats. She was being hailed as the talented lecturer from Boston.
I really thought she would expire from happiness.
When we came to bed she swelled so, or perhaps I should say, she
expanded so enormously with happiness, and gratified conceit, that there
was no room for me in the big chair beside her. I crept to the foot of
Mary's bed, and here I lie, watching Serena's pretty chest rise and fall
in a gleam of electric light that shines through the window.
It seems like a dream that she should be here, established in my bed. I
am happy to have my sister with me, and to see her so happy, but I don't
like her manner of leaving home.
Little Mary, by the way, does not seem to take to Serena. She is very
kind to her, but she does not pet her as she does Slyboots and me.
I was thinking to-night as I lay here, that I had had one sensation
to-day in the thought of going to Maine for the summer. I should rather
say I have had two, for Serena's being here is just about as wonderful
as my proposed journey. I suppose I am to be allowed to go. I know my
father did not want me to, but now that he is so annoyed with Serena I
have a feeling that he would not let either of us return home.
I am dreadfully sleepy. I wonder whether I shall dream of Maine or
Serena.