THE PURRERS OF PURRINGTON
No one can imagine how fast cat carpenters work, for very few indeed
have ever seen them work. And so it would be hard to make any one
believe how fast Purrington-on-the-Meuse grew. Why, in a week those five
cat carpenters had built all the houses which were needed to start with!
Of course the other cats helped in all ways that they could, such as
bringing boards, laying up bricks, and puttying in windows, but even
with this help it was wonderful the way the town grew.
There did not have to be many houses to begin with. There was one big
house, rather like a city apartment-house for single gentlemen, in which
the stranger cats, all of them unmarried, were to live. Madam Laura
offered to keep house for them, because they never could take care of
themselves without a lady at the head of their domestic affairs, and
there never could be another more fitted in every way to keep house for
them than was kind Madam Laura. It was most good of her to do it,
however, for being a lady of means, she could have gone off and lived
selfishly by herself, without a care in the world.
Ban-Ban and Kiku-san lived with Bidelia and the children; Thomas
Traddles and his new friend ’Clipsy had another house to themselves; and
there was a fourth house put up for a widow lady who came with her son
to Purrington from the human city. She was a white and yellow lady named
Alloy, because she was not all gold, and her son, who was about a month
older than Bidelia’s children, was named Scamp, and if ever a name just
suited its bearer it was this kitten’s, for he was such a scamp that all
the cats were worried for fear his example would lead Nugget into bad
ways.
So they built a schoolhouse at once, and opened a school for the
children, with Doctor Traddles for teacher, and some others to come in
during the week to teach extra branches. Madam Laura, for instance,
taught Fishing and Deportment; Bidelia taught Dancing; Kiku-san taught
French, which he had learned from Lois’s French nurse; Wutz-Butz taught
Boxing; and ’Clipsy was to give a course in Business Methods, which he
had learned during his life in the streets.
[Illustration:
S. KATZ
FRESH
MICE
DAILY.]
Then there were the shops. One where you could buy ribbons, collars,
bells, catnip, balls, cushions, and all such elegant trifles; and
another which was the market. Here you could buy asparagus tips, string
beans, peas, fish, and meat. This was kept by a gentleman named Schwartz
Katz, one of the stranger cats who had joined the party. He was very
round and stout, and was of German descent, having been born in a
delicatessen shop in the human city. He had the nicest, cleanest market
you ever saw, and over his door was his tempting sign: “S. Katz,
Butcher. Fresh Mice Daily.” He had many customers among the citizens of
Purrington who were too busy or too lazy to hunt their own game. He was
a black cat, as his name showed, but he wore a white front and had white
forelegs, so that he looked precisely like a human market-man—at least
in his clothes—who had put on a white apron and drawn white linen
sleeves over his coat sleeves. He often sat in his doorway, watching for
customers, looking big and fat and prosperous, just like a nice German
butcher.
Dr. Thomas Traddles had said that all the citizens of Purrington should
be spoken of as Purrers, both because they were so very happy in their
beautiful new city, and because it was the best way he knew of
shortening the word Purrington. So Purrers they were called, and they
lived up to it beautifully.
One day a most wonderful thing happened, and one that made the cats of
Purrington even more Purrers than they were before. Everything had been
made comfortable, and there was no lack of anything a cat could want in
Purrington, save one thing, but that was a sad lack. This was milk.
There was no milk to be had in Purrington, and no prospect of a way to
get any. The Purrers were feeling very grave about it when, one day, a
cow came walking along the grass-grown road that led through the woods
beside the city, and stopped to look at the houses, as well she might,
for there was not one higher than three feet, and even the
apartment-house was not more than ten feet square.
Ban-Ban saw the cow considering, and he guessed in a moment that she
must be the cow of whom he had heard Rob read in Mother Goose, who
belonged to a piper who bade the cow consider. He knew this, because
that was the only cow of whom he had ever heard who considered. So he
ran straightway out to the edge of the woods to speak to her.
“Dear Madam,” Ban-Ban began most politely, for he had always moved in
the best society and had heard no end of books read aloud, “you can’t
imagine how glad I am to meet you. Did you like ‘Corn Rigs Are Bonny’
better than the first tune after you had bade the piper play it to you?”
The cow stared. “Yes, I always liked that tune best of all,” she said.
“But how did you know?”
“That you were that piper’s cow?” asked Ban-Ban, twirling his moustache
with, it must be confessed, considerable self-satisfaction. “Oh, I
recognized you at once, because I saw you considering. May I ask whither
you are going and whence you came?”
You will see that Ban-Ban was trying to express himself elegantly,
because he wanted to impress the cow, and hoped to get her to see things
his way.
“I came from the piper,” said the cow, “but I have no idea where I am
going. I have left him for good and all. He had nought to give me—”
“Yes; I know,” interrupted Ban-Ban.
“Well, of course I am fond of music and all that,” the cow went on, “but
a person cannot live on piping, and corn is better than the tune, ‘Corn
Rigs Are Bonny.’ So I had to leave the piper, and now I am looking for a
home. When I see a comfortable farm, and a farmer that looks
good-tempered, and as if he would be kind to animals, I shall turn in at
his gate and chew my cud until he takes me to keep.”
Ban-Ban fairly quivered with eagerness. “We are not farmers,” he began,
and as the cow stared more than ever at the cat who made such an
unnecessary statement, he stopped and went back to the beginning of his
story.
“We are cats,” he said, “who have built this city of Purrington on this
river Meuse for a place where all poor, abused cats can come and live
happily all their nine lives. We have everything we want, except milk.
Don’t you think you could be happy if you joined us? There would not be
any one to bother you all day long; you could wander where you might
choose—and wherever a cow chews—with no one to drive you, or turn you
into a poor pasture, or out of a good one. We would be honoured by your
presence, and would build you a house all to yourself, and all we would
ask would be that every morning and night you would let down your milk
to us.”
“That would be like my friend Cusha-Cow Bonny. Her master asked her to
let down her milk to him, and he promised her in return a gown of silk
and a silver tee,” remarked the cow, thoughtfully.
“I don’t know what a silver tee is,” said Ban-Ban, “but it doesn’t sound
like anything that a cow would care for, and I’m sure you would rather
have a nice house and your freedom all the long summer days than a gown
of silk. Any sensible person would, especially we who already have such
beautiful gowns of fine fur and glossy brown hair,—yours is a lovely
colour, if you will pardon a personal remark,” added artful Ban-Ban.
The cow smiled. “Not as beautiful as yours,” she said, not to be outdone
in politeness. “Yours is silver on the high line of your back, and
almost purple in the shadow; I never saw a more beautiful coat.”
“Thank you,” said Ban-Ban. He did not pay as much attention to
compliments as the cow did, because he had been praised ever since he
had had his eyes open, and he could not help knowing how beautiful he
was. “Don’t you think that you would rather stay with us, in Purrington,
than to go farther, only to be again the slave of some man?”
The cow seemed to be struck by this way of putting the case; she no
longer hesitated. Shifting her cud to the left cheek, the cheek on which
a cow always chews when her mind is fully made up, Mrs. Brindle said,
decidedly: “I am quite sure that I should. And I will!”
“Good!” cried Ban-Ban. “Follow me, then!”
Making his tail very stiffly erect to do honour to such an important
occasion as was this one, when he was to lead into Purrington its supply
of much needed milk, Ban-Ban wheeled around and trotted rapidly down
[Illustration:
“The shout of welcome which all the Purrers of Purrington raised.”]
the main street, followed by Mrs. Brindle, who looked more round-eyed
than ever, as if she could not quite understand being adopted by a cat.
The shout of welcome which all the Purrers of Purrington raised as they
espied Ban-Ban and his companion nearly lifted little Dolly Varden off
her feet. But when she ran to the window and saw what was coming she
raised her piping voice and cried: “Mamma, Mamma Bidelia! Come quick!
Ban-Ban’s bringing home something awful, with horns! It’s bigger than
men and looks crosser!”
Bidelia ran to the window.
“Why, that’s milk, my Furry-Softness!” she cried, joyfully.
“Milk!” cried Nugget, scornfully. He was not nearly as respectful in his
manner since he had played with Scamp. “Milk comes in cans, mamma; not
in big, hair-covered horny things, with legs!”
“That is a cow, Nugget; you will see to-night whether you know more than
your mother. Cows give milk, just as pumps give water,” said Bidelia,
severely.
“Then I’m glad Ban-Ban brought her,” said Puttel, licking her lips
thirstily. “I’m so tired not having milk I ’most want to go back to our
old place.”
“Poor Puttel!” said Bidelia, feeling of the kitten’s nose. “You are
feverish. Never mind, my babies; to-night you shall have a long, creamy,
blessed drink, and I’m going to cook a fish for Ban-Ban’s supper for
bringing the cow here. What a genius Ban-Ban is! Nugget, run around to
Mr. Schwartz Katz’s and ask him to let you have his best fish. Tell him
Ban-Ban has brought the cow to Purrington, and that the fish is for
him.”
[Illustration:
“A long, creamy, blessed drink.”]
“He knows it,” growled Nugget, flattening his ears sulkily, for he did
not like to go on errands since Scamp had told him his mother took too
much of his play-time for her service. It was far from true, for Bidelia
was a most indulgent little mother.
“Nugget, go at once, and lift your ears. I will not allow you to flatten
your ears when I ask you to do something for me. Oh, dear,” sighed
Bidelia. “How dreadful it is to have kittens fall in with bad comrades!
Nugget has always been such a good boy! And now that Scamp is changing
him for the worse every day!”
“Don’t worry, mamma,” purred dear little Dolly, putting her forelegs
around Bidelia’s neck. “Nugget isn’t bad, like Scamp; he only thinks
it’s smart to spit and flatten his ears. He thinks that makes him catly,
and a soldier like Wutz-Butz.”
Bidelia licked Dolly tenderly. “I only wish he were not so weak as to
want to copy bad kittens. As though it were not much more grown-up to be
strong, and good, and obedient! If he wants to be catly why doesn’t he
imitate Doctor Traddles, or sweet Kiku-san, our gentle white friend, or
clever Ban-Ban, or even Wutz-Butz, if he does fight sometimes? It is so
silly to swagger!” And Bidelia sighed again, feeling that she was too
young to manage such a great yellow kitten as Nugget was growing to be.
Just then there arose in the street a great chorus. To human ears it
would have sounded like a chorus of mews, but it was not.
All the cats were shouting, just as they had heard human beings shout at
election time, and this was what they were saying:
“What’s the matter with Ban-Ban?” “He’s all right!” “Who founded
Purrington?” “Ban-Ban!” “Who brought the cow to Purrington?” “Ban-Ban!”
And then they sang, to the tune of Yankee Doodle:
“Bannie-Ban, with coat of silk,
Got poor thirsty cats their milk!
Bannie-Ban, he knows how
Best to argue with a cow.
Purrers, we, of Purrington,
Without milk could not get on.
Who went out, the cow to catch?
Our noble Bandersnatch!
Who brought Brindle, jogging-jog?
Our noble Bandarlog!
Cheer, then, cheer, all cats who can,
Cheer your best for great Ban-Ban!”
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