Transcriber’s Notes
Hyphenation has been standardised.
Chapter 16 has been omitted off the Contents list, so has been added.
[Illustration]
The Alley Cat’s Kitten
By
Caroline Fuller
Author of “Across the Campus,” a Story for Girls
[Illustration]
_Illustrated from Photographs
by the Author_
Boston
Little, Brown, and Company
1904
_Copyright, 1904_,
BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.
_All rights reserved_
Published October, 1904
THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A.
TO HER
WHO HELPED US BUILD THE RABBIT HOUSES,
AND
BEFRIENDED ALLEY CATS
[Illustration]
Contents
CHAPTER ONE PAGE
THE ALLEY CAT 1
CHAPTER TWO
THE ALLEY CAT’S KITTEN 9
CHAPTER THREE
THE BLACK RABBIT WITH WHITE SPOTS, AND THE
WHITE RABBIT WITH BLACK SPOTS 22
CHAPTER FOUR
A CALICO CAT 37
CHAPTER FIVE
MR. AND MRS. BLUEBERRY 54
CHAPTER SIX
UNCLE CYCLONE 72
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE FAMILY IN THE PIANO BOX 88
CHAPTER EIGHT
A LOSS AND SOME GAINS 106
CHAPTER NINE
AT THE LAKE 118
CHAPTER TEN
ON THE FARM 136
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE SON OF SILVER BELL 152
CHAPTER TWELVE
CLYTIE, THE CAT WITH MITTENS 164
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
TORN-NOSE 176
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A VISITING LADY 190
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
OCTAVIA 205
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Christmas Eve 216
List of Illustrations
_Full-Page Illustrations_
“There was never any sleep after the kitten was
in the room” _Frontispiece_
“Mrs. Wood, creeping down with her candle, interrupted
a grand game of tag between all the
animals” Page 83
“As her door opened, Weejums shot out with
a swelling tail, and her enraged victim in
pursuit” ” 197
_Illustrations in the Text_
The Alley Cat Page 5
She missed her own mother ” 13
If she could have seen how sweet she looked ” 15
He was naturally inelegant in his language ” 36
A little girl’s young mother cat ” 46
Mr. and Mrs. Blueberry ” 64
In a Mother Hubbard wrapper and a straw hat ” 66
Weejums helps receive ” 71
Cyclone ” 73
Fairy Lilian ” 105
A nice warm muffin ” 114
Weejums had not only one new ribbon, but many ” 137
The sash was not too tight to allow for dinner ” 173
Torn-Nose ” 183
A Red Cross cat ” 188
A visiting lady ” 193
Mrs. Winslow ” 195
A Christmas present, with Eunice’s love ” 217
Weejums ” 220
The Alley Cat’s Kitten
CHAPTER ONE
THE ALLEY CAT
She had not really minded being an Alley Cat until the kittens came.
But every one who has had children knows that one feels being poor much
more keenly on their account, than on one’s own. And the strawless
corner of a deserted shed did not seem a suitable bed for her mother’s
grandchildren.
The Alley Cat took no pride in her own appearance. Indeed, it had been
said when she was born that her mother, the blooded tortoise-shell of a
beautiful home, had never produced such a terrible kitten. She would
not have been allowed to live, if an accident had not deprived her
mother of the others. And as she grew up even her own parent saw that
she was homely.
It may be thought that homely cats have no feelings; but this is not
the case, for homely cats, like plain people, are sensitive, and have
even more feelings than others. So one day when some particularly
unkind remark had been made about the brindled kitten with yellow
sides, she left her home and ran away to become an alley cat.
She was sorry for this afterwards, of course, like every other kitten
that runs away. But she would not go home, and slept all summer in
empty boxes and under the barns of people who did not like cats. She
visited garbage pails, and learned to dash off with the others when the
maid opened the kitchen door. She learned to walk on her stomach when
crossing the street, and by the time that winter came, she had cobwebs
in her whiskers, and looked at everybody out of frightened green eyes.
She was naturally a good mouser, but when the weather grew cold, people
shut up their barns, and every cat knows that the open-air mice who
live around unused sheds are very poor eating. But she managed to get
along until the kittens came, and then she became desperate enough to
beg at back doors, and purr for a piece of meat. But some people cannot
appreciate even the finest kind of a purr, and the Alley Cat’s purr was
hoarse and miserable like herself.
“I once had a good soprano,” she told the friendly barn cat who brought
her a second joint of rat. “But I’m out of voice now, being up so much
daytimes with the kittens.”
There were only two kittens,—one ugly like herself, and the other the
very image of that beautiful mother who had never loved her. But the
Alley Cat remembered this, and made a point of loving the ugly kitten
best.
It was soon after their eyes were opened that the coldest weather came,
and the Alley Cat made her first acquaintance with The Back Yard.
She had visited other back yards in her time, but this was very
different, because kind children played there,—the children of a
mother who loved all helpless things. It is true that she did not
particularly yearn after alley cats, and was glad when this one refused
to be tamed, and brought into the house.
But she said, “You may put some milk and meat for her out on the coal
box, Eunice. She probably knows who she is, even if we don’t!”
So very often after that, when the Alley Cat leaped with a crash
of snow and icicles to the side fence, she would smell a nice warm
luncheon waiting for her on the coal box, and go home with a happy,
purring heart.
But just before Christmas, the family went away on a visit and the
house was closed, so when the crash of icicles came, and an anxious
gray face looked over the fence, there was nothing to be seen or
smelled that a body could eat.
The pleasant barn cat who had brought her the second joint of rat,
came to tell his friend of a place that he had found down-town behind
a restaurant, where many things could be had without asking. He was
really a very kind cat, although he had but one hole in his nose,
instead of two, owing to the partition having been torn through in a
fight.
[Illustration: THE ALLEY CAT]
But she could not move her kittens, and indeed had told him very little
about them, fearing that he might not like children.
It was soon after this that the gray kitten died, and the
tortoise-shell kitten became so thin that there was scarcely room on
her sides for all her beautiful tortoise-shell spots. But it was not
until the day before Christmas that the family of kind children came
home; and that night, when the mother and grandmother were out in the
woodshed unpacking holly wreaths, the Alley Cat came into the yard. The
mother of the children noticed her at once, because there had been a
heavy snow, and her little dark figure showed quite plainly against it.
“Mother, that cat is carrying something. I believe it’s a kitten!” she
said, and went to the door to look.
The Alley Cat came with her head held high, for it was a heavy kitten,
and her poor little back strained under the burden. But she managed
to reach the shed, and laid her baby at the feet of Her who loved all
helpless things, then turned and went out again into the snow.
“Mother, did you see that? Ah, Mother, look!” She took up the kitten
with pitiful hands, and held it to her cheek. Its little nose was
quite white with cold, and snow was on its tail.
“Do you suppose there’d be any danger in keeping it?” she asked.
“Eunice wants a kitten dreadfully, and has been praying for one every
night for a month.”
“Danger? what nonsense! I’ll disinfect it,” Grandmother said sharply.
“Somebody heard that prayer, if the Lord didn’t, and the cat’s come for
Christmas morning.”
“It’s a perfect beauty, even if it is thin,” said the children’s
mother. “But it’s pretty young to keep.”
“I kept my babies when they were younger than that, and I’ll warrant
this cat won’t make half so much trouble. Besides, its mother trusted
you, so there’s nothing else to do.”
But it was not until after they had warmed some milk for the kitten,
and Grandmother had wrapped her up in a First Aid bichloride bandage,
that they remembered how the Alley Cat had gone out again into the
night.
“She looked hungry,” said the children’s mother, with tears in her
eyes, “and I know she must have been hungry. But she thought she wasn’t
wanted, and went away. Oh, poor Alley Cat!”
She opened the outside door, and called, “Come back, kitty, come back,
poor kitty, kitty! Come back, poor kitty-cat!”
But nothing entered except the wind and the snow. And they never saw
the Alley Cat again.
CHAPTER TWO
THE ALLEY CAT’S KITTEN
Eunice and Kenneth were allowed to get up at six o’clock on Christmas
morning, if they would promise not to wake anybody else. But this was
a very funny rule, because when they ran into the play-room where the
stockings were hung, Mother and Grandmother were always there before
them; and Franklin, who had pretended to be fast asleep, would give
a wild whoop from behind his door. This happened every time, and for
years afterwards the striking of a match would set Eunice’s heart
beating, and she would think, “Oh, it’s Christmas, and six o’clock has
come!” when it might not be Christmas at all, and she would have to
shake herself very hard to remember that she was grown-up.
This morning Kenneth was the first to reach the play-room, and so it
was he who first saw—but Grandmother grabbed him by the seat of his
legged nighty, and put her hand over his mouth, saying, “Wait till
Eunice comes!”
It was then that Eunice saw too, and gave a little squeal of
delight,—the kind that she always gave when she saw one, although she
had never seen one looking out of the top of a stocking before. And
this one had a lace ruff around its neck. Otherwise the stocking was
just as usual, all bunchy, with a queer, fat foot made by the orange in
the toe. But she could not believe that what she saw at the top of the
stocking was true.
“Bang!” went Kenneth on one of his new noisy presents that Franklin had
given him; and “E-ow!” went the thing in the top of Eunice’s stocking.
Then it was true after all!
“Do take her out, quick!” said Mrs. Wood, laughing. “I’m so afraid
she’ll stick to the candy elephant underneath.”
“There, I’m glad that’s over!” said Grandmother, with a sigh. “I wasn’t
up with her but seven times last night.”
“Aren’t you going to look at your other things?” asked Kenneth,
blissfully sucking a hind leg of sugar dog.
“Oh, Mother, it has white toes!” Eunice cried.
“Say, Mother, this is bully!” exclaimed Franklin, from the other side
of the room where his table was set. Franklin considered himself too
old to hang up a stocking now.
“My present for Grandma’s on the breakfast-table,” Kenneth explained.
“It cost thirteen cents. Eunice’s didn’t cost but nine.”
“And a white end to its tail,” said Eunice.
“This book’s better than the one that other fellow had,” said Franklin.
“And it spit at me—such a cunning baby spit! Mother, did you hear it
spit?”
“Well, I believe that I’ll take another nap,” said Grandmother, with a
yawn.
“I’ll go back and get dressed,” said Mrs. Wood. “Kenny dear, sit off
that gum-drop, please. And don’t eat but three candy animals before
breakfast.”
“Eunice did!”
“Never mind what Eunice does. It’s your business to look after Kenny.
Yes, Mother, I’m coming.”
And before the children had really looked at all their presents, it was
breakfast-time.
“What’ll you name your cat?” asked Franklin over the oatmeal. All
Franklin’s rabbits had names, and could tell each other apart.
“I don’t know yet,” said Eunice. “I think I’ll have to wait and see
what her yell is.”
Eunice had a language of what Franklin called “yells,” in which she
talked to all animals, and the strange part of it was that the animals
seemed to like it. Some of these yells were a kind of song, and others
appeared to mean certain things which the animals understood.
Eunice did not call her new Christmas present “Kitty, kitty,” but
“Wee-je-wee-je, wee-je, kim-um-sing!” which meant “Come.” So in a few
days the kitten was known as “Weejums,” and Eunice said that Weejums
had chosen the name for herself.
[Illustration: “SHE MISSED HER OWN MOTHER”]
She was a very lonely little kitten at first, and spit at everybody
who tried to feed her. But this was only because she missed her own
mother, and had not yet learned to trust these new friends. She wept
nights, and her baby face sometimes had the look of quite an old cat,
it was so sad.
“And she never smiled,” Eunice said afterwards, “until I learned how to
make that same pur-r-ow in my throat that the Alley Cat did.” Then she
decided that she had made a mistake after all, and that Eunice was her
mother.
She learned to come to Eunice’s door every morning with a little
soft “E-ow?” followed by a very fierce “Wow!” if she was not let in.
Sometimes she came so early that Eunice would be sleepy, but there
was never any sleep after the kitten was in the room, for she was one
of the dreadfully playful kind; whenever Eunice moved her toes, she
would spring at them, worrying the bedclothes with wide bites, and soft
thudding hind-kicks. And if put down on the floor, she would leap back
instantly to dab at Eunice’s eyelashes, or tangle herself joyously in
her hair, chewing very hard as the curls became caught in her teeth.
She never came to any other door, or spoke to any other member of the
family, and seemed to know that she was Eunice’s cat.
[Illustration: “IF SHE COULD HAVE SEEN HOW SWEET SHE LOOKED”]
But she hated to be dressed in dolls’ clothes, and would switch her
tail very hard, and sit down “back-to,” whenever dolls were mentioned.
Of course if she could have seen how sweet she looked with her paws
sticking out of a frilled sleeve, and her whiskers showing daintily
against the dark blue of a velvet bonnet, she would not have minded
at all. But she refused to look in the glass when held up to it, and
only slanted back her eyes and ears in a bored way that Eunice called
“Chinese dignity.”
One day Mrs. Wood was receiving some very elegant people in the parlor,
when Weejums came, or rather rolled into the room. She had on a
sunbonnet, and a pair of dolls’ riding pants, which were so tight that
her tail had to be curled around inside like a watch-spring. This gave
her a most peculiar gait, as her front legs advanced in stiff hops, and
her hind legs went to places that her front legs had not planned at all.
Mrs. Wood’s back was towards the door, and she did not see Weejums
until the Senator and his wife began to laugh. Then she pounced on the
kitten and carried her out, feeling very much mortified, although she
knew that she should laugh herself when the callers were gone.
But Weejums had reason to be glad that she had run into the parlor
that day, for it put an end to the most uncomfortable part of the
dressing-up. After this, Mrs. Wood forbade Eunice to dress the kitten
in any garment that was not built to contain a tail.
But Weejums still took part in all the plays that Eunice thought of,
and even went coasting with her on the blue sled. Her tail always
swelled before they reached the bottom of the hill, but it went back to
its normal size again soon afterwards, and she liked being pulled up
the hill on the sled, without having to put her pink toes into the snow.
One Saturday afternoon, the children all went to see “Uncle Tom’s
Cabin,” and came home talking very fast about Topsy and Eva, and the
real bloodhounds, “as big as calves,” that chased Eliza across the ice.
“There will be scenes from ‛Uncle Tom’s Cabin’ in the nursery to-day,
at four,” Eunice announced at breakfast one morning. “It will be the
first appearance of Weejums on any stage.”
Mrs. Wood said that she would come, and bring some ladies who were to
call that afternoon, and Franklin came, and brought some boys who were
helping him build the new rabbit-house.
The price of admission was four pins; and Cyclone, the dog, was tied
near the door, with a pincushion strapped to his back for a money-box.
Cyclone whined and looked miserable whenever a pin approached, for he
knew that he had a sign, “PAY HERE,” fastened to his collar,
and thought it meant that the pins were to be stuck into him.
When everything was ready, Eunice threw open the folding doors between
her room and the nursery, and said in a solemn voice, “First Tableau.
‛Of such is the Kingdom of Heaven!’”
The tableau was Kenneth, standing in a high chair, buttoned into one
of his mother’s corset covers, which reached nearly to his feet. The
grown-up audience was wondering what this had to do with “Uncle Tom’s
Cabin,” when Franklin said, “Oh, pshaw! that’s wrong. That part doesn’t
come in yet.”
“It does _so_,” said Eunice, putting her head out from behind the door.
“Does _so_,” echoed Kenneth from the high chair.
“Aw, you mustn’t talk,” jeered Franklin. “You’re nothing but the
nightmare Uncle Tom saw in the last act.”
“Ain’t either!” said Kenneth, bursting a button off the heavenly robe,
in his wrath. “I’m little Eva.”
“It’s no fair talking,” said Eunice. “Mother, is it fair talking to the
tableau?”
“Let’s have the next scene,” said one of the ladies, applauding very
hard.
“Oh, yes,” said Eunice, looking quite pleased. “The next scene is Eliza
crossing on the ice, pursued by the fierce bloodhound.”
Eunice was Eliza, and Weejums was the bloodhound, and the cakes of ice
were newspapers spread on the floor. Eunice, screaming loudly, clasped
her doll to her bosom and jumped from paper to paper, then stopped
and wiggled a string, and the fierce bloodhound followed, with gentle
pounces and wavings of a tortoise-shell tail.
But when the audience clapped its delight, the tail grew so big with
terror that you could scarcely see any kitten at all behind it, and
dashed off the stage to hide under the nursery bureau. And the whole
audience left their seats and crawled around on hands and knees with
the actors, trying to coax the fierce bloodhound out.
But he wouldn’t come, and so they could not have any more scenes from
“Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” as Weejums was to have taken the part of Miss
Ophelia and any number of others. So the last tableau was announced as
“A Sorrowful Widow Weeping over her Husband’s Grave.”
Eunice was the widow, with a red tablecloth over her head, which was
the nearest she could find to anything black, and Kenneth was the
grave, down on all fours, covered with a yellow lamb’s-wool rug. He was
dreadfully warm and uncomfortable in this position, but behaved very
well, until Franklin gave a kind of snort and said, “Ho, who ever saw a
grave with panties on!”
Then the grave turned a complete somersault, and lay there chuckling
wickedly, while the sorrowful widow took off her red tablecloth and
scolded him.
The audience went away then, and Eunice found that Cyclone had slipped
the pincushion around under his stomach, and chewed all the bran out.
And when Weejums came out from under the bureau, she had to squeeze
herself so flat that she howled all the way, and some black, yellow,
and white hairs were left behind. But this was because she was getting
to be a big kitten now, and could no longer have gone into a Christmas
stocking.
CHAPTER THREE
THE BLACK RABBIT WITH WHITE SPOTS, AND THE WHITE RABBIT WITH BLACK SPOTS
The children went East with their mother that summer, and Weejums
stayed with Grandmother and Cyclone at the farm. But Eunice wrote to
her quite often, and learned from her replies that she was having a
splendid time chasing grasshoppers.
“I’d enclose one tender little one for you,” Weejums wrote; “but your
grandmother says that they wouldn’t agree with you. It seems a pity,
because they have such juicy little red legs.”
Eunice did not really believe that Weejums wrote these letters herself,
but was quite certain that she thought all these things, even if she
never mentioned them.
When they came back in the fall, Grandmother went down first to open
the house, and, of course, Eunice asked for Weejums almost before she
was inside the door.
“Well, she’s busy just now,” said Grandmother, with a funny look; “but
she sent word for you to look behind the barrel in the woodshed.”
Eunice and Kenneth ran as fast as they could, wondering why Weejums did
not come to meet them. And then they heard a purr—such a loud, proud
purr! Eunice thought that they heard it in the dining-room; but Kenneth
said it was not until they reached the kitchen. But it was Weejums’
purr, and it came from behind the barrel in the woodshed!
Eunice looked at Weejums, and Weejums looked at Eunice, and Mother and
Grandmother came out and looked at them both. Then Eunice took three
little squealing rolls of fur into her lap, and kissed three tiny pink
noses, warm and moist with sleep. And Weejums forgot all about her
kittens, in the joy of seeing Eunice again.
“They were born at the farm, two weeks ago,” Grandmother said, “and
came down in a basket last night.”
“Don’t you think,” asked Eunice, in an awestruck tone, “that she’s very
young to be a mother?”
“It really looks so,” said Grandmother, seriously; “because she seems
to love you a great deal better than she does the kittens!”
Weejums was rolling over and over in her delight, and jumping in and
out of the box to rub against Eunice’s face. And whenever she jumped,
her purr jolted up into a funny little squeak that came down when she
did.
“One is black with white edgings,” said Eunice, in a rapturous whisper,
“and one is yellow and white, with mittens.”
“Yes, those are extra toes like a thumb,” said Grandmother. “There’s a
cat up at the farm with toes like that.”
“And one is tortoise-shell like—no, not like Weejums. Isn’t it a funny
color, Mamma?”
“Yes, if she was ever planned for a tortoise-shell, her colors must
have run.”
Eunice looked alarmed, and wondered if all the other kittens’ colors
would run together, like the dyes of Easter eggs when they come out
wrong. But there was really nothing strange about this kitten, except
that where her black spots should have been black, to make her a
regular tortoise-shell, they were a kind of mixed brindle and maltese,
with speckled and drab lights. The rest of her was a nice yellow and
white, as it should be.
“She looks like my old laundry-bag,” said Grandmother; “but I kept her
for the sake of that alley cat.”
“Oh, say, come out and see the rabbits try the new house!” called
Franklin at the shed-door, and everybody but Grandmother hurried out
into the yard; for the rabbits had just come home from “Beansy’s,”
where they had spent the summer, and were to begin house-keeping in
their new quarters.
Mrs. Wood was particularly interested in the big rabbit-house, because
she had helped draw plans for the billiard and drawing rooms, and
herself suggested that there should be an upstairs.
There were two rabbits, a black one with white spots, and a white
one with black spots, and they were called Mercurius Dulcis and the
Overture to Zampa. Franklin had found the first name on one of his
mother’s medicine-bottles, and admired it; but Mrs. Bun was always
called Dulcie for short. The Overture was a fine, big fellow with
muscular sides, and a louder stamp of the hind leg than any other
rabbit in the Rabbit Club. Indeed, Franklin had been made president of
the Rabbit Club, just because of the size and strength and sound of the
Overture’s feet. Even Beansy’s white buck, Alonzo, was nothing beside
him.
“You put Stamper in the front door,” Franklin said to Beansy, for
Stamper was the Overture’s club name, “and I’ll put Dulcie in the
cupola. Then he’ll have to go up, and she’ll have to come down.”
The cupola had a top that came off, something like the cover of a
baking-powder tin, and Dulcie was thrust in, with a terrific kicking
and scrambling of resentful hind legs. But she was no fun at all
afterwards, for she sat perfectly still in a frightened bunch, with her
nose wiggling very fast, and did not try to move.
“Stamper’s all right, though,” Beansy said, with his face against the
wire-netting. “He’s going upstairs.”
He certainly was, although at first he had proceeded cautiously around
the drawing-room, with long backward stretches of the hind legs. But
now he found the staircase,—made of a board with little slats nailed
across it,—and scratched his way up very slowly, smelling the air with
little tosses of the head.
“He’ll find the celery now,” called Eunice, delightedly. “I put a piece
in Dulcie’s boudoir.”
Stamper ate the celery loudly, beginning with the leafy end, and Dulcie
heard him from the cupola.
“She’s coming down!” Kenneth exclaimed.
“No, she’s stuck,” said Beansy. “Your old cupola door ain’t big enough
for her to get out at.”
“Ho!” answered Franklin, with scorn, “you just see!” And in a minute
Dulcie had squeezed her way through, and dropped down suddenly on
Stamper’s head, which surprised him so much that he dropped the last
bit of celery,—the widest end,—and Dulcie ate it. Then they sat
looking at each other with wiggling noses, as if they had never met
before, and each one was thinking, “Now who on earth can this other
rabbit be!”
“They’re all right now,” said Mrs. Wood, turning back to the house;
“but they’ll never be able to get into that cupola after they’ve had
their dinner.”
Kenneth ran after his mother, Beansy went home, and Franklin went into
the shed to get his tool chest.
“Let me hold Stamper while you fix the door,” Eunice begged, for being
Franklin’s sister, she naturally regarded Stamper in the light of a
nephew.
“No, sir, he’ll stay below decks,” said Franklin, taking the cupola off
the house.
“But he’s trying to get out, Franklin. I can see his ears coming
upstairs.”
Franklin ruled out a larger door in the cupola with his square, and
began to saw.
“Franklin, he _is_ coming out!”
“Oh, go play with your cats!” said Franklin, impatiently. But Eunice
had seen a pair of wicked ears, erect as corn-stalks, peering through
the opening where the cupola had been.
“He will get out!” she thought, and grasping his ears firmly, hauled
the big fellow into her arms.
Stamper sat very still, as he was fond of Eunice, and simply moved his
wide ears back and forth until Franklin began to pound. Then he gave a
mighty leap, kicked Eunice in the stomach, and sprang to the ground.
“Franklin!” Eunice gasped; she was too much out of breath to say
anything else; and Franklin only answered, “Oh, don’t bother!”
So before Eunice could make him look around, Stamper had given three
loud, slow thumps with his legs, a kind of double-back-action kick in
the air, and was off across the yard.
“Head him off! head him off!” called Franklin, as he saw the scudding
of a white tail. “ Round by the alley, quick, quick!”
Eunice ran as fast as she could, but before they could stop him, the
rabbit had dodged under a barn and disappeared.
“Oh, thunder!” said Franklin,“we can’t ever catch him now. How in the
world did he get out?”
Eunice went through a little struggle with herself, and then said:
“He—I was holding him just a minute, Franklin. You see he was most out
himself, and so—”
“You didn’t try to hold him after what I said!”
“Yes, I did.”
Franklin might have understood how hard it was for her to tell this,
but he didn’t, and said angrily, “Eunice, you’re a naughty, naughty
girl, and you shall never even touch one of my rabbits again!”
Eunice turned and went into the house without saying a word, but
Franklin heard a pitiful wail when the door was closed, and thought,
“Hm—serves her right!”
He spent the rest of the morning looking for Stamper, and putting
LOST signs, with a description of the rabbit, on all the
barns in the neighborhood. But he did not expect to find him again,
and dinner that day was not a cheerful meal. Eunice’s eyes were red;
Kenneth was too awestruck to upset his glass of water as usual; and
Mrs. Wood looked grieved. But Franklin did not see why she should
expect him to be anything but cross, when he had lost the finest rabbit
in the whole club, and all through the fault of a meddling child,—her
child too! He decided that he had a right to be most severe, and went
out after dinner to whittle on the side steps, which with him was
always a sign of great displeasure.
As he sat there, Weejums picked her way daintily down beside him, and
came out for her daily airing. She gave a funny little jump and spit,
when one of the whittlings struck her, and Franklin almost laughed, but
remembered in time that he was too angry, and sent another whittling
after her to see what she would do. This time she smelled of it, to see
if it was something to eat, then finding that Franklin was only joking,
slanted back her ears, and walked haughtily across the yard, with stiff
jerks of the tail.
The temptation to make her jump proved too much for him, and he shied
a small piece of coal at her so neatly that it passed directly under
her, tossing the sand about her feet. Weejums gave a wild spit, and
tore into the alley, with rising fur, looking around in vain for the
earthquake that had struck her.
“Come back, Weej—here, here,” called Franklin, good-naturedly, for
teasing animals was not usually in his line. But then he was cross
to-day, and had not Eunice lost his rabbit?
He put down his knife, and went out into the alley to bring Weejums
back, but at that moment something terrible happened. A baker’s cart,
followed by a fierce dog, jingled into the alley, and the dog made a
dash at Weejums. Franklin ran for the dog, and Cyclone, who happened
to come around the house just then, ran after Franklin. Poor Weejums
could not see that the second dog was a friend, and did not recognize
Franklin in the boy who was chasing her. She left the alley and dashed
across the street into a vacant lot, where three other dogs were nosing
around among tin cans. They gave a yelp of delight, and joined in
the pursuit, followed by several small boys, who rushed along after
Franklin, shouting, “Ei-er there! Sick her, sick her!”
In a few minutes every boy and dog in the neighborhood was on Weejums’
trail, and Franklin could not stop long enough to explain to them
that he himself was not chasing her. The hunt came to an end, when she
vanished under some tumble-down sheds, many blocks away from home,
where a friendly barn cat, with a torn nose, hid her behind a soapbox.
“Don’t mention it,” he said, when Weejums tried to thank him. “I once
had a friend with eyes like yours.” And he sighed. But of course
Weejums could not know that this friend had been her own dear mother.
“Just watch me do stunts with that dog,” the barn cat said. He was
naturally inelegant in his language, never having lived in refined
surroundings; but Weejums forgot this when she saw him leap to the
back of a certain yellow cur, and claw maps on his skin, like the true
knight that he was.
All the other dogs, including Cyclone, turned tail and fled, and the
barn cat strolled back, with that gentle expression on his face, which
it is said that great warriors usually wear.
“They didn’t see where you went in,” he said, comfortingly; “the boys
are looking under the wrong shed.”
“I can never thank you for your kindness,” said Weejums, with a little
break in her yow. “But I shall tell my mistress about you, and I hope
you will call.”
“Does your family keep a desirable garbage pail?” asked the barn cat,
thoughtfully.
“Unexcelled. But of course I eat in the kitchen.”
“Ah!” said the barn cat, with another sigh, “what it means to have a
home! Now I presume that they never throw hot dishwater at you.”
“Never,” said Weejums, in horror; “I am treated as one of the family.”
“Alas,” said the barn cat sadly, thinking of his own life.
“But I’ve run away so far that I don’t know how to get back, and fear
that I shall never see my dear little kittens again.” And Weejums began
to weep.
“Their age?” asked the barn cat, briefly.
“Two weeks,”
“Most unfortunate. I must try and find your home for you. Remain here
in the soapbox until I return, and if any strange cat molests you, say
but the two words, ‛Torn-nose,’ and he will disappear.”
Weejums promised, and the barn cat slipped out so quietly that she
scarcely saw him go. But all the boys and dogs were gone now, so she
did not mind being left alone.
[Illustration: “HE WAS NATURALLY INELEGANT IN HIS LANGUAGE”]
CHAPTER FOUR
A CALICO CAT
Franklin did not go home after Weejums disappeared, but wandered around
the neighborhood, wondering what he should do if she did not come back.
“What do you mean by chasing my sister’s cat?” he asked fiercely of one
of the small boys who followed him.
“Aw—go long! You was chasin’ it yourself. Tie up your teeth!” was
the insulting reply. And Franklin realized that he could never make
them believe anything else. Then he began to wonder if there was not a
certain amount of truth in what the boy had said. To be sure, he had
started out to rescue Weejums and bring her home, but there had been
a strange and terrible joy in his heart, when that seventeenth dog
joined the hunt, and fell over all the others.
“Pshaw! all cats come home,” he thought. “She’ll find her way back all
right. But rabbits are different.”
He ground his heel angrily into the gravel, and thought of Stamper; but
somehow he could not work himself up into as bad a temper as he had
before. He could not imagine what would become of Eunice if Weejums
were lost.
“But cats always come home,” he thought again. “P’r’aps she’ll be there
when I get back.”
He had not noticed in what direction he was walking, and suddenly found
himself quite far down-town, opposite the bird store. There was a new
assortment of very wobbly fox terrier puppies in the window, and he
could not resist sauntering up to examine them. But almost immediately
he wheeled around, and walked off very fast without looking back, for
in the bird store he had seen his mother and Eunice.
They were buying a rabbit. He had seen the man holding up one of
the old store rabbits, who was kicking dreadfully, and whacking the
white-mouse cage with his hind legs.
Franklin knew that they charged a dollar and a quarter for this rabbit,
and that he was not worth it.
“If they’re going to buy a rabbit, they oughtn’t to buy one here,” he
thought, in an agony of anxiety. “There isn’t a rabbit here that I’d
put in my house.”
“If that bird-store man does Mother on that rabbit, I’ll go down and
settle him to-morrow,” he added to himself. And then he remembered,
with shame, that he could never accept a rabbit from Eunice, after he
had chased her cat.
He took a car home and looked eagerly on the front porch, half
expecting that Weejums would be sitting there waiting for him with a
forgiving smile. But she did not appear, and he went all around the
alley again, calling her in beseeching tones. Suddenly, under the
corner of a neighbor’s shed, he saw something white move, and went into
the house to get a saucer of milk.
“I s’pose she’ll be afraid to come to me now,” he thought, and the
thought hurt, for Franklin was not a cruel boy.
He set the milk down, very carefully, near the place where he had seen
the white thing move, and presently it hopped out, with a great flop
of the ears, and began to drink. But it was a white thing with black
spots, and its name was Stamper.
Rabbits love milk as well as cats do, so it was easy for Franklin to
grab the runaway by his long ears, and bear him off to his box, with a
milky nose and an indignant heart. Then he rushed into the house to see
if his mother and sister had come home. But they were not there, and
Franklin feared that they might have gone to some strange and distant
place in search of a rabbit. He was much relieved when a car stopped,
and Mrs. Wood and Eunice got off; for they were not carrying anything
but some bundles from the dry-goods store, and five cents’ worth of
candy for Kenneth. There was no sign whatever of any rabbit being
concealed about them.
“Stamper’s come home,” he said, almost before they reached the steps.
“I thought you told Eunice there was no chance of his ever coming
back,” said Mrs. Wood, kissing Kenneth, who had run to meet them.
“Well, I didn’t think there was,” said Franklin, shamefacedly. “Eunice
didn’t need to cry.”
He suspected that his mother had very little admiration for boys who
made Eunice cry.
“There wasn’t one chance in a thousand,” he added, “and I wouldn’t have
caught him then, if I hadn’t had the milk.”
“What were you doing with milk?” asked Eunice, suspiciously.
Franklin did not answer, and looked so uncomfortable that Mrs. Wood
changed the subject; for she made a point of never asking one of her
children embarrassing questions before the others, and this was one
reason why they loved her so much.
After supper there came a loud thump at the side door, and Franklin,
who was studying in the parlor, heard a delighted shout from Kenneth.
Then Eunice came running in with a smile, and taking Franklin by the
hand, said, “I’ve got something for you, to make up for your feeling so
bad about Stamper.”
“But Stamper’s come home,” he said, giving her a rough little hug. “And
I can’t take any present from you now, Sis, so run away, and let me get
my algebra.”
“I told her I thought you wouldn’t care to,” said Mrs. Wood, looking
relieved. “But she said that she’d feel very badly if you didn’t take
them.” She was so glad that Franklin felt he did not deserve them,
although of course she could not know yet just how much he didn’t.
“They” were on the dining-room table, sitting in Eunice’s hat,—the
most beautiful little pair of maltese rabbits that Franklin had ever
seen. And all his life long he had wanted a maltese rabbit!
“Those didn’t come from the bird store, I know,” he burst out in
delight, quite forgetting that he was not to keep them.
“They came from the farm of the father of a boy who works at Taylor’s,”
said Mrs. Wood, laughing. “The bird-store rabbits were no good.”
“Oh, those bird-store rabbits are enough to give a hand-organ sore
throat! You’re just a brick, Mother, and so is Eunice, but I can’t take
these little fellows, really. Eunice must keep them herself.”
“Eunice will feel badly if you don’t take them,” said Mrs. Wood again.
“Oh, but there’s reasons why I can’t,” said Franklin, desperately. “I
don’t want to tell before the kids.”
“Well, they can be my rabbits for to-night, then,” said Mrs. Wood, in
her quiet way, “and to-morrow we’ll decide whom they really belong to.
I shall feel dreadfully proud to own some rabbits, even if I can’t have
them but one night.”
She smiled, and Eunice and Kenneth began to laugh, thinking the whole
affair a joke.
“But they’re too little to put with Dulcie and Stamper, aren’t they,
Mother?” Eunice said. “We’ll have to put them with Weejums and the
kittens.”
“Oh, she’ll eat ’em up!” said Kenneth.
“No, she won’t,” said Mrs. Wood. “We’ll watch her and see. They are not
so different from her own babies.”
But when they took the little bunnies to Weejums’ box, there was no
Weejums to receive them, and the three kittens were crying with hunger.
“I’ll go call her,” said Eunice, running to the side door. But no
distant “purr-eow” answered to her call, and no tortoise-shell tail
waved a greeting from the top of fence or shed.
“Biddy, have you seen Weejums?” she asked, coming into the kitchen.
“Shure, I have, and a very foine cat she is, barrin’ her swate voice.”
“No, but have you seen her since dinner? Biddy, please don’t tease.”
“Well, I gave her some dinner at two, and she left my prisence directly
afterwards, without so much as sayin’ ‛thank you,’ and wint for a
sthroll.”
“Then she hasn’t come home! Oh, Mother, do you suppose anything’s
happened to her?”
Mrs. Wood went back to the parlor to ask Franklin if he had seen
anything of Weejums, and Franklin told her the whole miserable story,
or nearly the whole; for of course the children came running in to
interrupt.
“Don’t tell Eunice,” his mother said quickly. “It would make it so much
harder if she thought you had anything to do with it.”
So Franklin did not tell, but he never liked to think afterwards of
those days that followed. Eunice went around with a white face; while
Kenneth tore his clothes to shreds crawling about under barns and
fences. The loss of Stamper had been sad, of course, for rabbits are
both desirable and attractive, but Weejums was one of the family.
The kittens had to be fed with a spoon, and gave furious strangled
howls, as the milk was poured into them.
[Illustration: “A LITTLE GIRL’S YOUNG MOTHER CAT”]
Eunice wrote out an advertisement to be put in the paper:
“LOST.—A little girl’s tortoise-shell, young mother cat, with pink
toes and a sweet face. Answering to the name of Wee-je, Wee-je,
kim-um-sing.”
And Mrs. Wood put it all in, except the last, about answering, saying
instead that there would be a reward of two dollars for any one
returning the cat to her home.
This notice appeared for three days, and on the third, another one
followed it:
“In addition to above reward offered for return of young mother cat,
will be given: Two fine, fat, handsome rabbits in splendid condition,
with one palatial, airy rabbit-house, eight rooms, staircases, cupola,
and all modern improvements.”
“F. WOOD, ESQ.”
Mrs. Wood smiled as she read this, although her lips trembled, and she
thought: “That must have broken Franklin’s heart.”
The next day something else left the family, and this was no less than
Kenneth’s beautiful head of curls; but something much more important
returned in their place, when he came marching home without them.
Grandmother was there for a few days, and took him down to have them
cut, because he had been promised that they should go before school
began. Then she dressed him in his first trousers, and brought him
triumphantly to his mother, who, instead of being delighted, said,
“Oh, Kenny, Mother’s lost her little baby!” and looked so grieved that
he broke into a great roar of sympathy, and a little later, when he
strolled out into the street, a boy called after him: “H’m, been cryin’
’cause your hair’s cut!”
“Say that again, will you!” said Kenneth, removing his hands from the
new pockets.
“I said you’ve been cryin’ ’cause—”
But the sentence was never finished, for Kenneth had flown at him with
all the confidence those trousers inspired,—it is wonderful to find
how much more easily you can run in them,—and the boy dropped down
behind a fence.
“I guess I’ll take a walk,” Kenneth thought, with becoming modesty. “I
guess I’ll just take a walk around the block.”
“Round the block” was the extent of the distance he was allowed to go
away from home by himself.
“I may meet some boys,” he added, trying not to keep looking down at
his legs.
But he did not meet any boys, because they had all run to join a crowd
that was gathering on another street. And Kenneth ran too, although
he knew that it was much further than around the block; but his new
trousers went as fast as they could, and so naturally he had to go with
them.
The boys were looking up at a tree, and throwing things, and Kenneth
caught his breath, as he heard a most un-bird-like “_E-ow_” from among
the branches.
“Say, what color’d cat is it?” he asked of a ragamuffin, who was
preparing to throw an ancient apple.
“Caliker cat,” said the boy. “Up there. See?” and he closed one eye to
take aim.
“She ain’t calico. She’s tortoise-shell,” burst out Kenneth, turning
red with delight. “She’s our Weejums, and I’m goin’ to take her home.”
“Oh, she’s your cat, is she?” asked the boy, dropping his apple and
looking dangerous. “Your cat?—when we chased it up there? Well, I like
that! Say, fellers, did you hear that? Your cat, is it? Huh, _your_
cat! Calico cat! Tie up your teeth!”
“Don’t have to,” Kenneth replied.
“Say, you better run home to your Ma-Ma, little boy. D’ye hear?”
“Don’t have to,” Kenneth responded.
“Calico cat!” sneered the boy, insultingly. “Calico, I say. Old calico
cat!”
“Tortoise-shell,” insisted Kenneth, politely but firmly. “I’ll punch
your head.”
The boy doubled up his fists with a snort of rage,—he was bigger than
Kenneth,—and said:
“Oh, you’ll punch my head, will you? You’ll punch my head! I say,
fellers, did you hear him say he’d punch my head? Boxey, you heard him
say it?”
“I heard him,” said Boxey.
“Well, then, come along and do it. I just stump you to come along and
do it. Huh! don’t _dare_ do it!”
Kenneth had never engaged in a regular fight before, but it is strange
how different trousers make one feel—especially that first day. So
he took off his new little coat,—it was quite an old one before he
reached home,—and went for the boy. A ring formed to see that there
was fair play; for although they all pitied Kenneth, they couldn’t help
respecting a boy who said, “Don’t haff ter,” to Patsy McGann.
Everybody knows that there are two kinds of strength in a fight,—one
that comes from training, and one from splendid rage, and Kenneth’s was
of the latter order. When his nose began to bleed, he wept with fury,
which was very effective, as it made the blood seem ever so much more.
And when Patsy muttered, “Calico,” between his blows, Kenneth answered,
“Tortoise-shell!” with all the vengeance of which he was capable.
It was not a long battle, for the sound of Weejums’ pathetic voice,
from the tree, put force into Kenneth’s rib-punches, and presently
Patsy McGann went down, with a waving of grimy heels that called forth
a storm of applause from the onlookers.
“He’s licked him—he’s licked him! Give him the cat,” called a larger
boy who had strolled up while the fight was in progress. And all the
others drew away from the tree, while Kenneth coaxed Weejums down, with
a voice that she recognized, although she would never have known his
poor bruised little face. And just as he had taken her in his arms, who
should come whistling up the street but Franklin!
He understood the situation at a glance, and striding up to Patsy
McGann, seized him by the shoulder, saying, “Did you lick him? Answer
me! Did you lick that little fellar?”
“Naw, he licked me. An’ just on account of that old caliker cat you was
chasin’ the other day.”
“You shut up!” said Franklin, with his face burning. But Kenneth had
not heard the whole of the sentence.
“What kind of a cat did you say it was?” he asked, turning to Patsy.
“A cal—I mean turtle-shell cat,” said Patsy, sullenly, walking off
with his friends.
CHAPTER FIVE
MR. AND MRS. BLUEBERRY
Franklin took Kenneth in at the back door, and washed his face, before
letting any one see him. Then they walked triumphantly into the parlor,
with Weejums on Kenneth’s shoulder.
Eunice was practising at the piano, with Mrs. Wood beside her, so they
did not see Weejums, until Eunice felt a little purring face against
her own, and screamed for joy. Mrs. Wood exclaimed also, and turned
very pale, but it was not on account of Weejums.
“Was it a runaway, Franklin?” she asked quietly, “or did he get under a
street car?”
Just then Grandmother came into the room, and Franklin led Kenneth up
to her with pride.
“Grandmother, look at your descendant!” he said. “He ain’t but six,
and he licked a boy eight.”
“Hurrah for you!” said Grandmother, which any one will admit was a very
strange remark for a grandmother to make.
“What was the fight about?” asked Mrs. Wood, bringing some Pond’s
Extract from the dining-room. “Franklin, you didn’t get him into this?”
“Course he didn’t,” said Kenneth. “’Twas Weejums got me in, and Patsy
McGann. Ouch, Mother! don’t pour it in my eye.”
“It was an entirely necessary fight,” Franklin explained. “Patsy McGann
was throwing things at Weejums, and calling her a calico cat.”
“And she’s tortoise-shell,” Kenneth said.
“Well, they happen to be the same thing,” said Mrs. Wood, patiently.
“Mother, do you think it’s so very desirable for a boy to come home
looking like this?”
“I’d like to get a glimpse of the other boy,” said Grandmother, with
a wicked twinkle in her eye. Franklin gave a whoop of delight, but
Grandmother cut short his joy by beckoning him into the other room.
“You said he licked a boy eight?” she asked, taking up her work.
“Yes, and, oh, Grandmother—”
“Nothing strange about that, since he’s a Wood. _You_ whipped a boy
eight when you were six, didn’t you? Seems to me I remember.”
“You bet!” said Franklin, with a joyous flush of recollection.
“Yes, and so did your father. But now you’re twelve, and I know a boy
your own age you can’t whip.”
“Well, I’d just like to have you bring him out,” said Franklin,
doubling up his fists.
“It’s yourself,” said Grandmother. “It seems a pity that you’re not
strong enough to whip yourself,—when you want to chase cats, and
things like that.”
“Oh,” said Franklin, looking crestfallen.
“Now go and get ready for supper,” Grandmother said quietly. “I’ve had
my say.” Franklin edged to the door, and then came back, holding out
his hand.
“Grandmother,” he burst out, “Grandmother, shake! You’re a gentleman!”
after which he bolted upstairs.
“Where was Weejums going when the boys chased her up a tree?” Eunice
asked at the supper-table.
“Don’t know,” said Kenneth. “Mother, can’t I have three helps of
cherries to-night, ’cause I’ve got a sore nose?”
“You may have four more cherries, Kenny; but don’t throw the stones at
Cyclone any more. He may swallow them.”