THE next morning Mr. and Mrs. Winton were talking earnestly together in
the dining-room, and Mrs. Polly was listening with all her might, for
the conversation turned on a subject that interested her greatly. At
a very important stage of the conversation the door opened, and Posy
entered.
Mrs. Polly was greatly annoyed at the interruption, and at once called
“Posy,” in a voice so like Tom’s that for a moment Posy thought it
really was Tom’s voice; the second time Polly called, Posy detected the
deception.
“I know your voice, Mrs. Polly,” said Posy, “you can’t fool me quite so
easy;” and the large peanuts in Polly’s cage looked so very inviting
that she couldn’t resist the temptation of fishing one out, Mrs.
Polly’s sharp eyes watching her fingers and trying to give them a nip,
although she wouldn’t have had the heart to hurt Posy in spite of her
annoyance.
“What do you want, Posy?” asked Mamma, who had stopped talking as soon
as the little girl appeared.
“Miss Pompadour is going to be married,” said Posy, “and her wants a
nice handkerchief with pretty lace on it.”
Mamma agreed to let her have the handkerchief provided she would return
it, and told Posy where she could find it; but Posy still lingered,
much to Mrs. Polly’s vexation, for the interesting conversation that
Posy had interrupted would not be resumed as long as she remained in
the room.
“Her wants a fan too,” said Posy.
“A fan?” said Mamma. “Oh no, she doesn’t need a fan.”
“Yes, her does,” persisted Posy, “her’s to be married, you know, and
her must have a fan to blush on.”
“‘To blush on’?” asked Mamma. “Why, what _do_ you mean, Posy?”
“Why, don’t you ’member ‘Jenny blushed behind her fan’? Peoples always
does, Tom says.”
“If Tom says so it must be so,” said Papa. “I think Mamma can let you
have a fan for such an important occasion, Posy.”
“You are a dear, kind Papa,” said Posy, hugging him; “and if you’ll
give me a dollar I’ll buy you such a _beautiful_ birthday present! I
may as well tell you what it is, for you’ll forget all about it before
the time comes.”
“Don’t tell me,” said Papa, “I like to be surprised; but you shall have
the dollar when the time comes if you’ll run off now, for Mamma has
something to say to me.”
So off ran Posy for the handkerchief and fan, and when they were alone
again Mrs. Winton continued:--
“As I was telling you, you don’t know how unhappy I feel about Nancy.
Hannah insists that she took Posy’s necklace--”
“Rats!” called out Polly in a loud tone, “rats!”
“Be quiet, Polly,” said Mrs. Winton.--“I don’t think it right to
suspect the child without proof; but I must say that it looks very
suspicious, and then, too, when Posy missed the necklace she offered to
run back to the barn and look for it; but she felt so badly when Hannah
accused her, that I pitied her and didn’t believe she could have taken
it.”
“Rats!” called Polly again.
“She doesn’t look like a dishonest child,” said Mr. Winton; “but the
poor thing has been so neglected and abused that it wouldn’t be
strange if the temptation were too great for her sometimes. We must be
on the lookout, for if she is really dishonest this will not be the
last of her thefts.”
“The children are very fond of her, and she certainly does seem devoted
to them, especially Posy. I must say it makes me very uneasy to think
my innocent children may be influenced by her to do something wrong.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Mr. Winton, “I don’t believe she will injure
either of them; but I would watch her closely, and if you have reason
to suspect her again, investigate the matter thoroughly, for the poor
child has never had any care and you may perhaps be the means of saving
her.”
“Then Hannah says,” resumed Mrs. Winton, “that she misses a good deal
from the stores in the loft over the shed,--sugar and raisins and such
things,--and she is sure Nancy takes them.”
“Rats! rats!” screamed Mrs. Polly again, so loudly that Mr. Winton
exclaimed,--
“What a nuisance that bird is when she screams so! I wonder if she does
see a rat! She sticks to it so persistently I shouldn’t wonder;” and he
rose and looked out of the window. There were no signs of rats there,
however; the only living creatures he saw were the little sparrows who
had a nest under the eaves of the piazza.
“Well, I must go,” he said, as he came back from the window. “Major
will think that I have forgotten he is waiting harnessed;” and soon
Mrs. Polly and the canary were the only occupants of the dining-room.
“Provoking!” exclaimed Mrs. Polly. “I do think human beings are the
stupidest things! Here I told them, as plainly as could be, that
the rats stole Posy’s necklace and the sugar and raisins, and they
couldn’t understand! Talk about animals not being as intelligent as
human beings! Why can’t they understand us as well as we can them, I
should like to know!”
“It does seem strange they didn’t know what you meant,” said the
canary; “I am sure you spoke plainly enough.”
“I can’t understand,” said Mrs. Polly in an irritable tone, “how they
can be so stupid. Here they know that the rats steal Major’s oats, and
that it is the habit of rats to steal anything that attracts their
attention, and yet it never occurs to them that they are the ones that
take the sugar and raisins! If the barn-cat and the house-cat were not
so jealous of each other and didn’t quarrel all the time, they might
catch old Graywhisker, for he is the one that makes all the trouble;
but no, they can’t work together, and while one is at one end of the
hole, he slips out of the other. If they could only agree together for
one to watch at each end, they’d catch him fast enough.”
“There’ll be trouble as long as he lives,” sighed the canary. “Posy
said Michael was going to set a trap for him.”
“Much good that will do,” replied Mrs. Polly scornfully; “he’s too old
a head to walk into a trap.”
All this time the barn-cat and the house-cat had been devoting all
their energies to catching Graywhisker. It was very seldom that either
one or the other was not in the way when he attempted to venture out;
and the barn-cat set the gray kitten and the little tiger-kittens to
watch when she could not.
The gray kitten had grown stronger than she was when she first came to
live there, and the young tiger-kittens considered themselves a match
even for Graywhisker. As for poor little Mrs. Silverskin, she dared not
venture out at all in these troubled times; for, between her fear of
Graywhisker and the cats, times were hard indeed.
Old Graywhisker felt that his case was becoming desperate. He sat
in his house and looked around on his once well-filled larder. Not
a crust, or rind of cheese or pork, was left. His last crumb was
gone, and where was he to get more? It was now several days since he
had dared venture out, and it was evident the cats were bent on his
destruction, for there was now never a time when one of them was not
about. He knew he must make a bold move and try to escape from the cats
or else die of starvation.
“You’ll never catch Graywhisker there,” said the barn-cat to the
house-cat, who was watching the hole outside the barn. “He comes out by
half a dozen different ways.”
“Then why don’t you catch him yourself? If you know so much better than
anybody else, I should think it would be easy enough,” retorted the
house-cat angrily.
“I intend to catch him,” replied the barn-cat; “he’ll soon be starved
out and _have_ to leave his hole.”
“And I intend to catch him too,” said the house-cat.
“Between you both you’ll lose him,” said the sparrow to himself, who,
perched on a pear-tree, had overheard the conversation.
Meanwhile Graywhisker grew more and more hungry. He searched his house
over and over again, hoping that he might have overlooked a crust, but
he could find nothing. Then his eyes fell on the barn-cat’s collar,
and he gave the ugly grin that displayed the broken front tooth so
unpleasantly. “If I can’t make you ornamental I can at least make you
useful, my dear Mrs. Barn-cat,” he said. “Leather is not as much to
my taste as pork or cheese or sugar, but it is better than nothing;
so here goes!” and taking the pretty red collar between his forepaws,
he bit out a large piece. “Not much flavor,” he continued; “but if you
think of a nice bit of toasted cheese or a delicate piece of pork rind
while it’s going down, it isn’t so bad.”
Soon nothing remained of the gay little collar that had been the
barn-cat’s pride, but the plate on which to engrave the name and the
padlock that used to tinkle so musically; but after the leather was
eaten up, Graywhisker became desperate indeed!
“If I could get hold of one of those tiger-kittens, wouldn’t it be a
treat?” he exclaimed, with a horrible grimace. “I _will_ venture out,
cost what it may. I don’t know as it would be any worse to be caught
by the cats than to die here slowly by inches. Oh, if I could only get
hold of one of those young rats or Mrs. Silverskin! I’d make them
bring me something to eat,--they are so much lighter than I am they can
slip along more easily.”
The barn-cat sat behind a post in the barn, where she could hear and
see without being seen, and the house-cat was watching a hole outside
with great perseverance.
“He can’t come out without one of us seeing him,” said the barn-cat to
herself; “I am sure of that. One thing is certain; he can’t stand it
much longer. He _must_ venture out soon for food, and then--”
Yes, she was right; he was coming out at last,--that was his long
gray nose looking out of his hole, and those his small sharp eyes.
Hardly daring to breathe, the barn-cat watched every motion. He looked
anxiously around in every direction, and then stole softly along. The
barn-cat did not stir until he was directly opposite the post where
she was concealed, and then gave a sudden spring, and her sharp claws
were fastened in his back, and the old thief and plotter was a prisoner!
[Illustration: Posy takes a peanut from Mrs. Polly’s cage.--_Page
239._]