ON THE TRAIN
I have not had a good long think for some time. In the first place, I
have been turned out of my bed, and I find that nothing upsets a little
cat like being deprived of her usual sleeping-place. Then I found myself
in a place where it was too hot and stuffy to think. I became tired and
irritable, and at night I could neither sleep nor meditate. After we
left the stuffy place, I found myself in this home where everything is
so quiet, that I could do nothing for two nights but lie awake and think
of the stillness.
You listen _to_ the noises in the city and in the country you listen
_for_ them.
Let me see—when was it that I had the last good, long think, and made a
review of my own conduct, and that of my friends and family?
It was just after Serena had left Mrs. Darley, and had come to the
Denvilles'. That was the beginning of a very upsetting time for me.
Serena kept me on the go for a long time. She would not stir without me,
then she got more independent, and I was left in peace.
She never went home again before we came here, for we are now in lovely
Maine. I did, several times. I got so bold that I would run up Joy
Street quite by myself. My parents were always glad to see me, and Jimmy
Dory regularly used to stand on his head for glee, when he saw me
coming.
He missed Serena dreadfully, but he had no thought of running away
himself. “The parents are a trifle dull for a young fellow like me,” he
said, “but that is all the more reason why I should stay with them. They
took care of me, and amused me, when I was a young fellow, and I ought
to take care of them, and make things a little lively now that they are
getting old. Then sometimes I go down in the kitchen and play with Jane.
She is getting quite civilized.”
I approved of his sentiments, and told him so; then he used to ask me
about Serena, and how she was getting on.
“Serena is quite a belle,” I said. “Cats come as far as from Arlington
Street to call on her.”
“Does any one pet her?” Jimmy Dory used to ask.
“Yes,” I said, “but she doesn't care to be too much handled. A caress
now and then is all that she wants. She likes Mrs. Denville better than
any one. She sits in the drawing-room with her the greater part of the
time.”
This habit of Serena's of sitting in the drawing-room was rather a trial
to me, for Mrs. Denville sat up late, and Serena never would come to bed
until that lady did. She loved the pretty gowns of Mrs. Denville's
friends, and the music and talk, and the sweet cakes and tea, and the
admiration she excited.
I didn't mind that part of it, but what I did mind was having Serena
come walking boldly to bed long after Mary and I were asleep. She always
woke me up with a stroke of her paw, and made me run my tongue all over
her body to compose her nerves for the night, she said. It was nice for
her nerves, but discomposing for mine, and that is why the time of her
coming to Beacon Street is rather confused in my mind. I had no chance
to think it over properly, for she deprived me of my rest and made me
sleepy all the time.
I just forget how long Serena was there before we broke up. I think it
was about a fortnight. Then a child next door had scarlet fever, and
Mrs. Denville was in a great fright on account of her own daughter. She
bundled little Mary right out of the house, and the child went in such a
hurry that of all her pets she was only able to secure me. Her nurse
went with her, and for some days we were with Mary's grandmother, a
fashionable old lady who had a suite of rooms in a big hotel.
I don't know why old ladies like to live in hotels. I should think if
the feeling of having so many people in a house was bad for a young cat,
it would be worse for an old woman. However, Mary's grandmother liked
it. Her name was Mrs. Ainslee.
I was nearly crazy. There was no noise, no confusion, only a great many
well-dressed people, but it seemed to me that I should suffocate. There
were so many curtains and draperies, so many thick carpets, and so much
dark wood, and such a smell of rich food. I don't think the human beings
minded the food smell as much as I did. In the open air I should have
liked it, but in this hotel it made me miserable. I could not eat well,
nor sleep well. I was cross and disagreeable, and my tongue became
coated. Mary never took me to drive here. Her grandmother would not let
her, and the only outing I had was a short time every day, when I was
allowed to go on a balcony and look out over the city. We were pretty
high up, and it made me melancholy to see how far I would have to jump
to get to the street. However, I had no thought of running away. I was
not miserable enough for that, but how I did wish that Mary's
grandmother was a poor woman, living in a house with a yard.
Well, an end came to it. One day there was a great talking between Mary
and her nurse, and I caught the word “Maine” several times repeated.
Then Mary came and caught me up.
“To-morrow morning, darling Pussy,” she said, “we are going to lovely
Maine. We are all to meet at the station. Oh! how perfectly beautiful! I
shall be with mamma and papa again!”
I was so pleased that I did not know what to do. When Mary put me down,
I went and crowded myself against one of the closed windows, and looked
at the busy street below. I could not think, for I had a dull headache.
But I just felt happy. Mrs. Ainslee, being an old lady, hated the cold,
and she kept her rooms at a suffocating heat all the time.
Well, the next morning came. Very early I found myself aroused by Mary's
nurse, old Hannah, who was stepping softly about the room. Then little
Mary woke up, and hurrying out of bed as fast as she could, the child
began to dress herself. In about an hour, Mary had gone to her
grandmother's bed, and had said good-bye, and we were down in the big
dining-room, getting an early breakfast.
After that came a drive in a carriage, then a meeting in a big, big
building with Mary's parents.
It was a very joyful time, but dreadfully confused. I stared in dismay
at the groups of people. Some were standing quietly, other men and women
were rushing to and fro as if they had just lost their pet cat, and were
trying to find her. Fortunately, my dull eye wandering about in quest of
more friends fell on Mona.
I slipped from Mary's arms, and ran up to her. “How do you do, dear
Mona? I am so glad to see you. Do tell me what this great building is.
Why, I should think it would cover the whole of Beacon Hill.”
“This is a railway station, Black-Face,” she said kindly. “See Anthony
over there buying the tickets. Are you coming in the baggage car with
me?”
“I don't know what a baggage car is,” I replied.
“Do you see those long things over there?”
“Those funny little houses on wheels?” I asked.
“Yes—those are railway cars. Some are for men and women, some for
animals, some for other things. Here is Anthony.”
The young man at this moment approached Mr. and Mrs. Denville. Touching
his cap, he put some pieces of paper in their hands. Then he came up to
Mona, and fastened something on her neck.
“What is that?” I mewed.
“My check,” said Mona. “Mr. Denville has to pay for me.”
At that moment, I heard Mary's voice in distress, “Black-Face,
Black-Face, where are you?”
I ran back to her, and Mrs. Denville looked down at me. “You should have
had your cat put in a box or basket, Mary.”
“Oh, mamma, can't she go in the car with me?”
“No, dear, it is breaking rules, and she will be happy in the baggage
car with the other creatures. Serena is there, and Dolly, and the
canaries, and Mona is just going. Anthony will ride with them.”
She put up a finger, and Anthony who was now leading Mona by a chain,
came near.
“Take this cat,” said Mrs. Denville, “and put a collar and string of
some kind on her.”
I sprang into Anthony's arms. I did not wish to be tied.
“She is a good little thing, ma'am,” said Anthony. “I don't think she
would bolt.”
“She might,” said the lady decidedly. “Put a cord on her, in case of
accidents.”
Still holding me, Anthony went up to a kind of little shop on one side
of the building, and bought a collar and chain. Then with me in his arms
and leading Mona, he passed through some big gates, and we went
alongside the rows of funny little houses on wheels.
I was so glad he had me in his arms. The people pressed and jostled us,
but Mona was so big she did not seem to care.
At last Anthony stopped, climbed up some steps, and entered one of the
cars as Mona called them.
I saw an open door behind us. Inside, were lovely soft seats, and many
persons seated on them; but we did not go in there. Right in front of us
was a kind of store-room, or lumber-room, with old trunks and boxes, and
some new ones. There were also some bicycles.
“Good-morning, baggage-master,” I heard Anthony say, and a man in his
shirt sleeves came toward us. “Where are the rest of our critters?”
The man pointed toward the other end of the car, so we walked on.
“Mew,” said a cat's voice, and there, to my delight, was Serena looking
at me through the slats of a box.
“Well, Serena,” I said, “how do you do? I am glad to see a member of my
own family again.”
“I am very well,” she replied calmly. “How are you?”
“Oh! nicely. I am sorry to see you in that box.”
“Sorry!” she repeated bridling unamiably, “Why, I was put in here for
protection. They were afraid that something would happen to my lovely
fur. I see you are not boxed.”
I grinned from ear to ear. “No,” I said, “I am not worth boxing. Where
is Slyboots?”
“Here beside me in this other box.”
I looked at it. Slyboots was curled all in a heap. She would hate this
racketing place.
She wouldn't uncurl herself when I spoke to her, so I gazed round for
Dolly.
She was flat on her face in a corner—a perfect heap of misery.
“She is used to the train, too,” said Mona in her rumbling voice—“has
often been on it before. Look up, Dolly. I am here.”
Dolly raised her head, and as Mona's chain was fastened to a ring in the
side of the car, she slipped between the big dog's front paws, and sat
there cowering and trembling.
The canaries were in a cage hanging up on the side of the car. There was
a thick cloth all over them, and perfect stillness inside. They did not
like travelling any better than the rest of us.
I was sorry for Slyboots. I knew she was suffering, and I was pleased
when Anthony tied me, so I could sit beside her box.
Pretty soon we started, and glad I was to get out of the dreadful noise
and confusion of that building. Bells were ringing, smoke was puffing,
men, women and children were still hurrying, and the air was full of
distraction for cats.
The gliding motion was rather pleasant, until we began to go bumpety
bump, and rattle rattle. I did not like that; however, I saw that there
was no danger. Anthony did not look frightened, nor did the man with the
funny cap on, so I plucked up courage and whispered to Slyboots:
“It is all right—you are quite safe, and we are on our way to lovely
Maine.”
[Illustration:
“SHE SLIPPED BETWEEN THE BIG DOG'S FRONT PAWS, AND SAT THERE COWERING
AND TREMBLING.”
]
She never stirred, and I turned to Anthony. He had dragged a stool right
in the midst of us, and sat there quietly looking at us from time to
time. He was a kind-hearted young fellow, and if he had not been he
would not have dared to neglect us, for I had heard the Denvilles talk
of having discharged servant after servant for being unkind to animals.
Anthony did not love us as the Denvilles did. He rather made fun of us,
but still he was kind to us, and that was good in him.
We soon rushed along at a fearful rate. I never dreamed that Boston was
so large. I thought Beacon Hill was the most of it.
“Why, Mona,” I mewed at the top of my voice to make her hear, “where did
all the houses come from?”
She smiled at me. “There are more houses in the world than you ever
dreamed of, little cat.”
Suddenly we stopped with a great jerk. “What is this?” I asked
curiously. “Is it to give the horses a rest?”
“The what?” inquired old Mona wrinkling her forehead.
“The horses who are dragging us. Have they stopped to take breath, and
get a drink of water?”
Mona just roared with laughter. “Excuse me, Black-Face,” she gasped,
after a time, “but I cannot help it. You are so innocent. Our motive
power does not consist of horses, but steam.”
“Steam,” I said in astonishment—“like the tea-kettle steam?”
“Yes, my kitten, yes.”
“And how many kettles does it take?”
Mona at this laughed so uproariously that I paid no further attention to
her, but looked at the man whom Anthony called the baggage-master. Had
he gone crazy? The train had stopped, and he had pushed back further the
big door in the side of the car, and was throwing all the boxes and
trunks outside. Oh! how angry he was!
I was perfectly terrified. Soon he would get to our corner. Then would
he throw us out? No, for there sat Anthony quite calm and collected, and
reading a newspaper.
“Mona,” I said timidly, for by this time she had calmed herself, and was
only snickering occasionally. “You wouldn't let that man hurt me, would
you?”
“That man—the baggage-master?”
“Yes, Mona.”
“Don't be afraid. When your turn comes to be handled, he will be quite
gentle. I saw Anthony giving him a good big tip.”
“A tip?”
“Yes—money—to be good to us.”
“Meow!” I screamed suddenly, for as the baggage-master stood panting and
glaring after his fit of fury, some other crazy men outside began to
fling back all that he had just put out. However, I did not need to be
afraid, for now his rage was quite over, and he seized the things
rapidly, and put them all neatly into the corner of the car furthest
away from us.
“Mona,” I said indignantly, “it was hardly safe to put us in with that
violent creature. If Anthony should leave us, I am sure we would go
out.”
“Hush! Pussy,” said the good dog authoritatively. “He is only doing what
he is paid to do. At every station he must throw out passengers' luggage
and take on more.”
A sudden light broke over me. Was that what he was doing?
“See, there are the Denvilles' trunks behind us,” continued Mona—“those
big ones with M. D. and H. D. on them.”
“Oh! thank you, thank you, Mona,” I replied. “I am a very foolish cat.
Let me know when we get to Maine. I am so confused with this racket that
I am going to lie down and close my eyes,” and I pressed close up to
Slyboots' box.
Serena was gazing at everything with wide-open eyes. I don't think she
understood things any better than I did, but she was too proud to ask
questions. Before we went to sleep that night I would probably have to
explain everything to her.
I lay down and got up again, and closed my eyes for hours, and then
opened them. It seemed to me that our journey would never end.
“Are we going round the great, big world, Mona?” I asked wearily.
“No, no, Pussy,” she replied gently, “only over a little bit of it.”
I gazed out the large door in the side of the car, for it was a lovely
day, and the baggage-master left it open a little bit. If he had closed
it I should not have seen a thing, for the windows were high up in the
sides of the car.
We were passing through another big city. Then came fewer houses, then
green grass and trees like the Common.
“Is this the country?” I asked Mona.
“Yes, we are in the real country now.”
“But not in Maine?”
“No, not yet. I will let you know when we reach Maine.”
It was beautiful if it was not Maine, and the scenery kept changing. Not
steady rows of trees like the Common, nor one little pond, but many
trees set different ways and large ponds—“lakes,” Mona called them, and
rivers.
Just when we were getting weariest, we had a very pleasant diversion.
Anthony picked up a basket from the floor, and gave us all something to
eat. How good those sandwiches tasted! Then he gave us some milk which
he poured from bottles into a pan. I considered it was very thoughtful
in him to have provided this lunch and said so.
“It was Mrs. Denville,” said Mona. “It would not have occurred to
Anthony to do it.”
In the bottom of the basket were some nicer sandwiches for Anthony. He
gave some to the baggage-master, and they seemed to calm him still more.
I went to sleep after our lunch. I actually had a real nap, till I was
awakened by some one saying in my ear, “This is Maine, your lovely
Maine.”
My eyes just flew open—lovely Maine; why it was the dirty part of a city
that we were passing through.
“But this is not the country,” I said.
“No,” replied Mona, “but we shall soon come to the country parts. Maine
has some towns and villages, you know. It is not all fields and woods.”
“I did not know,” I said confusedly, then I began to watch—to watch just
as an ordinary cat looks after a mouse. Our family was not much good at
catching mice. My father is a little bit disinclined to exert himself,
and Serena thinks mouse-catching vulgar.
“We must make some difference between ourselves and common cats,” she
often says, “so let it be as regards our table.”
Well, I did not at first find Maine very different from Massachusetts.
However, after a while there was more forest—wild-looking forest, and
Mona told me that in those woods the gentlemen from Boston came to shoot
deer.
“Now, Black-Face,” she said at last, “be all alive. Anthony and the
baggage-master have just been saying that we are near our destination.”
I told Serena and Slyboots. Serena's eyes sparkled, but Slyboots never
uncurled herself. Poor Dolly pricked up her ears just a little bit, and
I stretched my neck to see all I could from the car door.
“This is the opening of the valley,” said the baggage-master, “the Black
River Valley. Those are the Purple Hills on the north, and the Green
Hills on the south.”
“Have you ever been here before?” I asked Mona.
“No, never, but I have been in other country places. This is very
charming though!”
Charming!—it was exquisite, and quite took my breath away. “Serena,” I
said, “can you see?”
“Not a bit,” she replied bitterly; “describe it to me. Is it like the
Common?”
“Yes and no. There are huge green trees, and grass, and water, but the
Common has no big things against the sky like great rows of houses with
trees standing on the top of them.”
“Be more explicit, I beg of you,” she exclaimed irritably. “You are
exceedingly confused in your statements.”
“I will tell her, kitten,” interposed Mona in her calm voice. “Serena,
we are just entering a long, flat valley with low ranges of hills on
each side. The train is gliding among beautiful fields and orchards.
Farm-houses are scattered here and there. There are strips of forest
land, and many little streams. We have not yet come to the Black River.”
“Thank you,” said Serena prettily. “Your description heightens my desire
to escape from the protecting confines of this travelling cage.”
Mona glanced at the grocer's soap box she was in, and grinned. Then her
heavy nostrils moved delightedly, and she said, “Smell, kitten!”
My own little nose went like a rabbit's. “Oh! Mona,” I said, “how
perfectly delicious. What is it?”
“Apple orchards in bloom. The valley is sheltered, and the trees blossom
earlier here than elsewhere.”
Just then, we swept right by the front door of a large, old-fashioned
house.
“Put here, of course, before the railway was built,” said Mona. “Now
look, kitten, we are entering the largest orchard yet.”
I did look. I had never seen anything like this on the Common. I must
say the shape of the apple trees seemed rather low and squatty; but the
look of them!
“Oh! Serena,” I screamed, “they are all dressed for a party—in pink and
white. Oh! what beauty. They are not common trees. They must be Angora
trees.”
“I cannot see,” mewed Serena excitedly, “but I can smell. What
delectable odors! How I wish I were out of this box. That perfume
exceeds and goes beyond the catnip.”
“I don't know about that,” I said doubtfully, “but it is very delicious.
The water is running from my mouth.”
“You vulgar thing,” said Serena disdainfully, and she would not speak to
me for a long time.
There were more farms and farm-houses, more meadows and patches of tall
dark pine-woods.
“They seem to have every sort of scenery in this valley,” said Anthony
good-humoredly. Then he began looking round to see if we were all right.
“How many minutes to Black River station, baggage-master?”
The man looked at his watch. “Five,” he said.
I was greatly excited, and the five minutes seemed as long as an hour.
However, they passed, and at last the train stopped slowly, and Anthony
got up, and leading Mona, hurried out the door at the end of the car.
The baggage-master handed the rest of us down very carefully to him
through the big door at the side of the car. All the fierceness had gone
out of him.