A MAN WHO HATED ME
Up to now I had been kept as much as possible with Beatrice; but when
she was better and able to come down, I realised that there were three
children in the house--my old friend Rosamond, of course, and two
others, Amerye and Kitty, whom I had hardly seen at all.
Heaps of people kept cropping up. There was Miss Grueber, their
governess, and Annie, their schoolroom-maid. After Beatrice had been
downstairs and 'on the sofa' a week, her mother-in-law, Tom's mother, a
Mrs. Gilmour, came, and I scratched her.
She made the most fearful fuss, and I am ready to declare that my claw
was not shot out with any degree of violence, nor did it penetrate more
than the eighth of an inch into her hand. But she said her arm would
mortify. She complained of a twisting sort of pain reaching up as far
as her elbow, and wore her arm in a sling to keep the blood out of it.
She said there was poison in cat's nails as well as in that of human
beings, only their nails don't affect you unless that human being is
in a rage. She went about with a 'poor-poor' face, and requested that
I might be removed if I happened to be in the room when she came into
it. I often hid when she was there, for though I disliked her and would
not ever go near her again, or play with her bobbly fringe or the ends
of her fur stole, I found her amusing and liked to listen to the absurd
things she said and the stories she told, although I hardly believed
them. She said she herself was indifferent to cats if they didn't come
near her, but there were people who fainted away if a cat came into the
room where they were. That I afterwards had reason to know was true,
for it coloured my whole life.
One day Beatrice was downstairs lying on the sofa in a sweet lace thing
with lots of fascinating frills to play with. I refrained because she
had been ill. She told us she had put on this lovely _négligée_ because
Mr. Fox was coming to tea.
'Who is Mr. Fox?' asked Auntie May.
'Oh, a very nice man who has taken Shortleas this year. I don't know
where he comes from--London, I suppose--but I met him somewhere before
I was ill and found we were neighbours--if you call five miles apart
neighbours--and thought we might as well be civil to him. I asked him
to tea while you were here--I thought perhaps he might like to meet a
London authoress.'
Auntie May looked cross, as she always does when they talk of her
books, which she doesn't think much of, only they bring her pocket
money, and as Mr. Graham is always spending his on old silver and
enamel, it is important to her. Then as it was still quite early, and
Mr. Fox wasn't likely to come till tea-time, Beatrice civilly asked
Mrs. Gilmour to play something to us.
Mrs. Gilmour said she wouldn't, at first, but Beatrice worried her to
do it, knowing that she meant to in the end, and at last the old lady
opened the instrument, as she called it, and began.
In all my life I never heard anything like it! The old thing's
gnarled fingers hopped and skipped and jumped and rattled about like
hailstones, and the notes bobbed up under them as if they were alive.
I longed to catch them, but I dared not go any nearer to the terrible
noise.
'Lovely!' murmured Beatrice, closing her eyes.
'Sweet!' said Auntie May, pegging away at her fancy work that she wants
to get done.
I felt perfectly sick, and as if my inside was being pulled right out
of me. I should have died if I couldn't have run away and hidden myself
somewhere. Down, down went my tail, as we cats always put it when in
trouble, and I crept under the Chesterfield sofa, wishing only that my
ears had been smaller and did not let the sound in so much.
'I love the minor key,' said Auntie May, and then I knew what it was
_I_ disliked so much.
Presently there was a scrunch on the gravel outside; not a cart or trap
scrunch, but a motor scrunch, which is quite different. Auntie May gave
a pat to her hair, and Beatrice a tug to her skirt, and whispered to
Auntie May in fun:
'Now mind you don't shock him, you wild London girl!'
Mrs. Gilmour must have heard the scrunch too, but she went on playing
louder than ever, only jumping up with a little mew of surprise as the
door opened and Barton announced: 'Mr. Fox.'
I could see Mr. Fox by lifting up the edge of the valance of the sofa
with my nose, and I took a good look at him. He was very tall, and
very dark-haired, and stooped a little. I dropped the edge of the
valance again, for it was tiring, and I could tell things about him by
using my ears--for instance, that he was a very shy man.
He was, of course, introduced to Auntie May, and for the rest of his
visit he sat staring at her. I guessed this from the direction of his
voice when he spoke. Mrs. Gilmour talked to him most, and all about the
poor, and why they want a three-roomed cottage instead of a two-roomed
one.
'I should think every family wanted a spare room,' said Auntie May, 'to
stow their mother-in-law--or the cat.'
'Don't be flippant, May,' said Beatrice, and Mr. Fox seemed to be
wriggling on his chair, for it creaked. I suppose he didn't like her to
make fun of mothers-in-law; but if his was like Mrs. Gilmour, it would
be difficult to help it.
Presently I looked out and saw that he had pulled his handkerchief out
and then didn't seem to know what to do with it. Very soon, however, he
began to put it to his mouth and I could hear him gasp.
'Do ring, May,' said Beatrice. 'I can see that Mr. Fox is dying for tea
after his long drive.'
'Not at all,' Mr. Fox blurted out. 'Not at all. I never take tea, I--'
'Have a brandy and soda, then. Tom always does.'
'Mr. Fox looks quite pale,' said Mrs. Gilmour.
'The fact is,' said Mr. Fox, and his voice trembled, 'I am not very--I
am afraid I cannot stop for tea to-day.'
'I am afraid you are not well, Mr. Fox. Last time you came I had the
pleasure of pouring you out a very strong cup.'
'I know,' mumbled poor Mr. Fox. 'The heat'--it was drizzling snow and
sleet at that very moment--'I want air. I feel I must leave you; the
truth is, I am so unfortunately constituted'--here he simply gasped. 'I
am convinced that there is a cat in the room.'
'There isn't, that I know of. But if there was--'
'I am sorry to say I am sure of it, from my ridiculous weakness. I have
been subject to it from childhood. I cannot breathe--I feel positively
faint if one of those animals is anywhere in my neighbourhood.'
'May, if your wretched cat is hidden under the sofa--hunt it out quick,
or poor Mr. Fox will faint!'
'Please don't disturb your pet for me,' said poor Mr. Fox, politely. 'I
had much better go. I am quite ashamed of myself.'
But meantime Auntie May had lifted up the valance of the sofa, and
I had walked out, given Mr. Fox one look, and sought the door which
Auntie May opened for me respectfully. No vulgar shooing for me! She
followed me out and took me in her arms.
'Never mind, you sweet little innocent lamb that never did harm
to any one. Never mind what the silly man says. Go and have tea
in the schoolroom, and behave, and don't get schoolroom manners,
please--remember you are a drawing-room cat, and behave as such.'
She opened the schoolroom door and shoved me in; she seemed in a great
hurry to get back to the silly weak sort of man.
I knew what she meant by schoolroom manners. Nobody could behave better
than Rosamond, Amerye, or Kitty sometimes. When they were allowed to
have tea in the drawing-room they made it a point of honour to be
quite different, but in the schoolroom they had an idea that it didn't
matter. They clawed large chunky slices of bread off the plate and
buttered them with the butter-knife up in the air, as they weren't
allowed to do when Beatrice was there, and drank 'giant drinks' till
their cups were empty, looking at each other over the rim all the while
and trying not to end with a sputter, as a syphon does.
Kitty, the youngest child, was still shy about speaking when she was
told to, though she could rattle away twenty to the dozen when not
invited to give her opinion, or even when told to shut up.
This very day she gave us an example of her particular kind of
obstinacy. She badly wanted some more cake and didn't want to ask
politely for it, because that would be letting Fraülein know that she
_did_ want it.
Fraülein knew that. She said:
'Now, Kiddy'--that was the way she pronounced Kitty--'you can have that
piece of cake as soon as you say, "Yes, please." Kiddy, do you want it?'
Kitty nodded.
'Well, you can have it if you will only say, "Yes, please," and if you
won't say, "Yes, please," Kiddy--well, then, you can go wizout.'
Kitty began to cry gently.
'You little silly,' said Rosamond, 'if you really do want the bun, why
can't you say what you are wanted to say? What is there in it after
all? Yes please, yes please, yes please--I can go on for ever.'
'Pray don't,' said Fraülein. 'Now, Kiddy--'
'I _will_ say it, Fraülein, I _will_ really,' Kitty cried.
'Well, then, say it.'
'I can't.'
'Very well, then, go wizout.'
Kitty began to turn on the waterworks and Rosamond pinched her severely.
'I _am_ going to say it; take away your hand,' declared Kitty at last.
So they held out the plate to her and said solemnly, 'Will you have
this bun?' and Kitty sold them all a good deal, for she opened her
mouth and said:
'No, thank you.'
That was exactly what a cat would have done in her place.
That child is like a cat in some other ways, she spoils property. I
don't suppose her teeth meet in things exactly, but her fingers are as
sharp as claws any day. When Auntie May came in a few moments later,
having got rid of Mr. Fox, I heard some more about Rosamond's famous
doll Wilhelmina.
It appears that Kitty had once had a delightful toy, an old woman who
lived in a shoe with her ten children, and that after she had had it a
month Kitty undressed all the children and stripped them to see if any
of them had measles or not. She then lost their clothes, or used them
for something else, painting rags, I believe, so the old woman had to
keep all her children in the toe for decency. We talked about the old
woman for a long time, and then--I suppose Auntie May had forgotten
about the fate of the doll, for she turned to Rosamond and asked her
what had become of Wilhelmina?
To my great surprise Rosamond, who is thirteen and hardly ever cries,
burst into tears and spilt all the tea out of her mouth on to the
tablecloth.
'Wilhelmina died,' said Kitty hastily. 'Poor thing!'
'Don't _you_ pity her, _you_ murdered her,' sobbed Rosamond. 'Oh,
Auntie May, she broke her and pulled her all to sticks and streaks, and
she had been all through scarlet fever with me--'
'And she had been _defected_, she had,' said Kitty, tremendously
interested.
'Shut up, you snake!--which left Wilhelmina weak and easily breakable,
and so when Kitty got hold of her she just sighed and came in pieces.
I have never minded anything in my life so much, and Kitty never even
said she was sorry.'
'I'll make her,' said Amerye, taking part in the conversation for the
first time. 'Come along with me, Kitty, and I'll _make_ you sorry!'
Tea was over and she marched Kitty into a corner, and Auntie May said
she would give Rosamond a new doll if she really cared so much.
'Not now,' Rosamond said. 'I am rising fourteen now, as Daddy says, and
the next doll I have will have to be a real one. No more make-believe
children for me, thank you!'
'Only tink, Mees,' said Fraülein Grueber to Auntie May, 'what dat dear
shild make me soffer! I try very hard to train her mind. I say to her
when we are promenading togedder, how you call dis or dat naturlish
object? It is what you call the Kindergarten method--teach her her
nouns and werbs. Dere are some cows in the field, and I say, "Kiddy,
what do you call dose tings?" and Kiddy she answer, "Pigs." I say, "No,
Kiddy, not pig, try again," and she say, "Well, den, rooks." Then I get
angert, and I say, shaking my umberell, "You make a fool of me, Kiddy,
and what are they? Finish!" And Kiddy, she smile sweetly and say,
"Mushrooms." Then I am quite out of myself, and I say, "No tea for you,
Kiddy, till you tell me what dose are!" Then she seem a bit worried,
and she look hard at the cows and she say, "Monkeys!"
'I take her and I shake her and I say, "Kiddy, no jam with your tea!"
and she only reply, "I not care for jam," which is one big lie and she
know it. Then she appear all at once to melt and say, "Fraülein, I tell
you, because you are so kind," and I say, "Yes, yes, my shild!" all in
haste to be friends mit her again, and she whisper in my ear, "Liddle
boys!" Then I lose my whole head completely and I whip her toroughly.
Here, kom, my own liebchen, my lamb, have you been good and made your
apologies to your sisterchen?'
Kitty had just come in again, led by Amerye.
'IamsorryRosamond,' she said, all in one word to show how little she
cared. 'Now, Amerye, take me to see your chickens as you promised.'
'I said if Auntie May will come too,' corrected Amerye. And so, to help
Amerye to keep the promise by which she had got Kitty to beg Rosamond's
pardon (Kitty wasn't allowed near the hen-house because of something
she once had done--I could never find out what), Auntie May had to
say 'yes,' and off we all went to the hen-house, although poor Auntie
May had only bead slippers on, while Amerye had goloshes. I had no
shoes, but Auntie May took me across her shoulder. I did not mind going
so long as I was not taken up to those awfully rude rabbits, and I
suspected they were somewhere that way; people generally keep all their
children's nuisances in one place. But we did not after all go near
them, and all I saw was nice hens, and one duck with a beak exactly the
colour of Amerye's hair. All his family had been eaten, but somehow he
had got left out so long that they hadn't the heart to kill him.
[Illustration: AUNTIE MAY TOOK ME ACROSS HER SHOULDER.]
I was glad they didn't put me down among the animals. I didn't fancy
that broad bill of the duck's fumbling at me.
Next day at luncheon Kitty scored off Miss Grueber again. Kitty adores
chocolate pudding, and when it is there she gallops through her first
helping of rice so as to be ready for chocolate.
Miss Grueber, who knew this, said, 'Kiddy, you are done your rice
double-quick time. I see you come. _Now_ what you want?'
And Kitty said very politely, 'Some _more_ rice pudding, if you please.'
That night I was back in the drawing-room again, on Beatrice's knee,
and they all talked of ghosts. I was surprised to hear that Mrs.
Gilmour had seen several north-country ghosts. In fact she knew them
very well, and said there was no need to be afraid of them, for they
never touched you.
Auntie May made her quite angry by telling her that her cat Petronilla
saw ghosts.
'Last year,' said Auntie May, 'I took her to Littlecote, the famous
Elizabethan mansion that is haunted by Wild Darrell. We had Queen
Elizabeth's room, with a stone carved mantelpiece that seemed to
overhang the whole room. Pet slept on my bed on the side farthest
away from the door. About the middle of the night--I was not exactly
sleeping very well myself--I felt her stirring, and I lit a candle,
for there is of course no electric light in such a very old house.
Petronilla was sitting up in her place, staring out at something near
the door. Her great green eyes were round and dilated. She sat staring
fixedly in the same direction for quite five minutes--'
'Are you quite sure as to the number of minutes?' asked Mrs. Gilmour,
sarcastically.
'I could not help staring too, though I saw nothing but my white
dressing-gown hanging on the door. Poor Pet saw more than that, I
am sure. At last she sighed and took her eyes slowly off, and lay down
again and never stirred. I knew by that that the ghost was no longer
visible.'
'I am much obliged to you for confounding me with your feline pets,'
remarked Mrs. Gilmour. 'And now I think, Beatrice, as I am rather
tired, I will say good-night. Miss Graham, excuse my remarking it, but
I do think you have cat on the brain!'
'She's offended,' said Beatrice, 'and now she'll cut me off with a
shilling. I must say, May dear, that for a novelist you are about the
most tactless person I ever knew.'