SPARROW, THE TRAMP.

“The sparrow again waited until the child had almost reached him.”—Page [155.]

Sparrow, the Tramp.

A Fable for Children.
By LILY F. WESSELHOEFT.

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY JESSIE McDERMOTT.

BOSTON:
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.
1902.

Copyright, 1888,
By Roberts Brothers.
University Press:
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge.

PUBLISHERS’ NOTE.

The lamented author of “Little Women” in her last days read with great delight the manuscript of this little story; and its publication is owing greatly to the interest which she had in it.

Mrs. Polly.

SPARROW, THE TRAMP.

——◆——

CHAPTER I.

“Let that sugar-bowl alone, Posy,” said Tom, as Posy extracted a lump while they were waiting for Papa and Mamma to come down to breakfast.

“I’m not taking it for myself,” answered Posy, as plainly as the large lump in her mouth permitted her to speak; “I’m only just getting a lump for Dicky.”

“That’s a story,” said Tom.

“I was only just tasting it to see if it was a real sweet lump,” said Posy very distinctly now, for the lump had disappeared. “I didn’t mean to eat it, but it went all to pieces in my mouth.”

“You might have known it would,” said Tom.

“I guess I’d better pick out a real hard lump next time,” said Posy; and she made up her mind not to put that one in her mouth, so she only lapped it a little as she walked towards the canary’s cage.

Just then a noise was heard from the china-closet, and Tom at once went to see what it was.

“Why, there’s a mouse-hole right in the corner of that upper shelf,” he said; “I thought it sounded like a mouse gnawing.”

“Rats! rats!” called the parrot, whose cage hung in the window by the side of the canary’s.

“You’re mistaken, ma’am,” said Tom; “the barn-cat doesn’t give the rats a chance to come into the house,—they live in the barn.”

“Rats!” again cried the parrot.

Posy went up to the parrot’s cage and looked in.

“How do you do? How’s your mother?” asked the parrot, with her head on one side.

“Pretty well, I thank you, Mrs. Polly,” answered Posy; and she couldn’t resist the temptation of trying to seize the red feathers in Mrs. Polly’s tail and give them a little tweak. Mrs. Polly always resented such liberties, and made sudden dives at the chubby fingers; but Posy had learned to be careful, and drew them out in time.

“You wouldn’t really bite Posy, would you?” asked the canary.

“No,” said Mrs. Polly, “I wouldn’t; but I guess you wouldn’t like to have your tail pulled every time she gets a chance. It doesn’t hurt, you know, but it’s very disagreeable. She steals the peanuts out of my cage, too, and eats them. She’s a very mischievous child.”

“But she’s kind and good,” answered the canary.

Although this conversation took place between the birds, to the children it seemed as if the canary sang his usual song and Polly chattered in her accustomed way.

Just then Mr. and Mrs. Winton appeared, and the family took their places at the breakfast-table.

Soon a slight rattling was heard among the dishes in the china-closet, and Mr. Winton cautiously approached the closet door and suddenly opened it. A large rat whisked into the hole Tom had discovered.

“We never had a rat in the house before,” said Mr. Winton, as he returned to his seat; “I am afraid the house-cat doesn’t do her duty. I never thought her so good a ratter as the barn-cat.”

“Michael must stop up the hole at once with broken glass and mortar,” said Mrs. Winton; “I can’t have rats in the house.”

“Posy, run into the kitchen and see if Hannah has any more muffins,” said Papa; for Katie, who had been both waitress and nurse to Posy, had been gone a few days, and her place had not been supplied.

“How long that child stays!” said Papa, when some minutes had elapsed and she did not return.

“Hannah is rather slow,” answered Mamma, “and perhaps the muffins were not quite ready.”

A few minutes more passed, but no Posy appeared.

“What can that thumping be?” said Mamma. “I can’t imagine what Hannah can be doing. I have heard it for some time. Do run and see what it means, Tom.”

“I shouldn’t wonder if Posy were up to some mischief,” said Tom, as he disappeared.

“What in the world can that boy be doing?” exclaimed Papa, after they had waited some time and neither of the children appeared.

“I will see what the trouble is,” said Mamma; but before she rose from her seat Tom reappeared, laughing, and leading Posy, who appeared somewhat confused as she resumed her seat in silence.

“What do you suppose Posy has been doing?” said Tom. “She found Hannah down cellar getting coal, and she locked her down; and then she took the house-kittens and dipped their heads in the pitcher of milk on the table and made ’em drink, and then she brought in the barn-kittens and made them drink too. Hannah said Posy made believe she didn’t hear when Hannah pounded on the door and told Posy to let her out. She said she heard Posy running backward and forward, hurrying to get through before anybody came.”

“Well,” said Posy, “kittens have to be teached to drink milk, you know.”

Papa laughed, as he was very apt to do when he heard of Posy’s mischief; but when Mamma shook her head at him he stopped and tried to look very serious.

“It was very naughty of you to lock Hannah down cellar, Posy,” he said; “you see I can’t have any more muffins, for it’s time for me to go for the train.”

Posy looked very sad to think she had been the cause of so much trouble, and Papa could never bear to see his little girl unhappy; so he caught her in his arms and kissed her, saying,—

“But I can’t help loving you, if you are naughty.”

“Hannah,” said Posy, as Hannah entered to take away the breakfast, “my papa says it was very naughty in me to lock you down cellar, but that he loves me still.”

“Michael,” said Mr. Winton, as the horse was brought around to the door to take him to the depot, “the rats gnawed a hole through the wall in the china-closet last night, and I want you to stop it up with mortar and broken glass.”

“All right, sir,” answered Michael. “If the barn-cat could be in two places to onst, it’s no rats ye’d have in the house. She’s a rale knowing baste, is the barn-cat. If you could only see the sinsible way she has wid them kittens of hers. She kapes thim out of doors in foine weather; and when the jew begins to fall, if it’s shut the door is, she kapes thim walking about, for fear it’s a cold they’ll get.”

“Let’s go and see them,” said Tom; and off ran the children as Mr. Winton stepped into the carriage and drove off.

Then, when all was still in the dining-room, a slight noise might have been heard in the china-closet, and a long nose and a pair of very sharp black eyes appeared in the now rat-hole.

Looking cautiously around, and stopping every minute to listen, the rat ventured out. He was quite gray about the mouth from age, and had a particularly vicious look in his shrewd old eyes. Finding all still, he ventured out a little farther, and still farther, and at last slid down from the shelf and entered the dining-room.

Mrs. Polly’s quick ears had heard him, and she watched him as he noiselessly moved about, picking up the crumbs that had fallen from the table.

“Hallo!” called out Mrs. Polly.

“Speak a little louder while you’re about it,” snarled the old rat, who had started at the sound of her voice and listened anxiously to hear if there were danger of detection; and as he spoke he gave a very vicious grin that displayed his long yellow teeth, with one of the front ones broken.

“I haven’t time to sit for my portrait this morning,” resumed the old rat, as Mrs. Polly continued to gaze steadfastly at him. “You’ll know me the next time you see me, I hope!”

“I know you already,” said Mrs. Polly; “you’re Graywhisker.”

“Whew!” exclaimed the old rat, with another grin that showed the broken front tooth; “there’s nothing like being famous.”

“I’ve heard of you from my friend the barn-cat,” said Mrs. Polly. “She has known you a long time, she says, but you don’t care to become very intimate with her;” and Mrs. Polly gave a short laugh that was very irritating to Graywhisker’s nerves.

“The old fiend!” he exclaimed angrily; “of all the meddlesome old—”

“Don’t get excited,” said Mrs. Polly calmly.

“You’d better mind your own business,” answered the old rat, “or you’ll find yourself in trouble. The barn-cat and you are two very different individuals, and I shan’t stand on ceremony with you, I can assure you.”

“Do stand on ceremony with me,” said Mrs. Polly, with another laugh.

Graywhisker brought his teeth savagely together; but Mrs. Polly kept her cold gray eye on him in such a very unconcerned manner that he evidently thought better of his intention and resumed his search for food.

“Mean people these,” he muttered; “not a scrap left. Come, don’t be stingy, Mrs. Polly; give me one of your peanuts there. I don’t know when I’ve tasted a peanut,—not since the day Posy left a few and went into the house for a glass of water. She didn’t find many left when she came back, though.”

“Come and get one if you want it,” said Mrs. Polly, eying five freshly roasted peanuts that lay on the bottom of her cage.

Graywhisker watched her shrewdly for an instant, but couldn’t determine from her expressionless countenance whether she really meant what she said.

“It’s easy enough to pick one out,” he said to himself as he began to climb the drapery that hung by the parrot’s cage.

Mrs. Polly watched him as he nimbly pulled himself up, and sat with her head inclined slightly forward, following every motion of his. When opposite the cage, he seized it with one of his forepaws, and with the other tried to fish out a particularly fat peanut; but before he could draw it out Mrs. Polly’s sharp beak pounced down on the paw, and he gave a squeal of pain.

“Did it taste as well as those you stole from Posy?” asked Mrs. Polly.

“You old vixen!” began Graywhisker, “you—”

“Don’t swear,” said Mrs. Polly coolly.

The canary had been a silent spectator all this time, and hardly dared to breathe; but when Mrs. Polly pounced on the old rat’s paw she gave a nervous flutter.

“Oh! I hadn’t noticed you before, my friend,” exclaimed Graywhisker, with his horrible grin; “you’re a very tender morsel, and I’m not a bit afraid of your soft little beak;” and the old villain began to descend the curtain on Mrs. Polly’s side and ascend the one that hung by the canary’s cage.

Poor Dicky was completely paralyzed with terror. Up came the gray nose and wicked-looking eyes nearer and nearer, and yet poor Dicky sat without stirring, his terrified eyes fastened on the horrible monster that could crush him with one grasp of his paw. At last he was opposite the cage, and was about to reach out his paw to seize it, when the spell that kept Dicky silent seemed broken, and he fluttered about, uttering cries of terror. The strong paw still held the cage, and the other paw reached in between the wires; but as the frightened bird, in his agitation, fluttered within reach of the relentless paw, Mrs. Polly gave a shrill whistle, and then another louder still.

A rustling was heard in the bushes outside the window, and at the sound Graywhisker descended the curtain and scurried into the closet, disappearing into his hole as the house-cat, with gleaming eyes, jumped on the window-sill and glared around.

“Which way did he go?” she demanded.

The gray nose was pushed cautiously out of the hole, and a voice said,—

“Mrs. House-cat, did you ever get left?”

CHAPTER II.

When Posy caught up the kittens to carry them back to their nest in the barn, it was no wonder that the barn-cat followed her with a distressed and anxious countenance. Posy had been in such a hurry that she had taken one of the barn-kittens and one of the house-kittens!

The barn-cat tried very hard to make the little girl understand her mistake, and ran about her with her tail in the air and crying dismally; but Posy didn’t understand, and ran back to the house after putting the kittens in their nest. How the barn-cat did wish she could speak! She looked at the kitten that belonged to the house-cat. It was very pretty,—maltese, with a little white on the breast and about the nose, very like its mother.

“It’s rather a good-looking kitten, there’s no doubt about that,” said the barn-cat, “but to my mind not half so pretty and cunning as my little tiger-kitten that Posy left in the kitchen. That house-cat doesn’t know how to bring up a family; she’ll spoil this one just as she has all of her others. It’ll grow up as vain and indolent as she is herself. I’m sure I don’t want it here. Come,” she said, poking the kitten with her paw, “you just run home again, will you?”

The house-kitten didn’t seem to understand what the barn-cat said, for she evidently thought the cat wanted to play with her, and she tried to catch the big paw in both of her little ones.

“Well, you are cunning,” said the barn-cat. “It’s too bad to have you grow up a spoilt child. You’ll never be as smart as my kittens, of course, but I’ve a great mind to keep you and see what you’ll make if you are properly brought up.”

She didn’t like to show the kitten that she was watching her, for it might make her vain; so she pretended to be looking very intently at something out in the yard and gently moved the tip of her tail, but she looked out of the corners of her eyes and saw the little house-kitten at once try to catch it.

“Pretty well,” she said to herself, “considering you’ve never had any instruction. When you’re a little older I’ll teach you how to crouch and spring, the way I do my own kittens.”

Now that the barn-cat had decided to keep the house-kitten, she set about washing it; for Posy had dipped its head so far into the milk-pitcher that it presented a very untidy appearance.

She washed it in a most thorough manner; but the barn-cat was not so gentle in her ways as the house-cat, and the little house-kitten thought her pretty rough.

“You mustn’t be a baby and cry for nothing,” said the barn-cat, when the kitten gave a mew as the rough tongue lifted her off her feet; “I see you’ve been coddled too much already.”

Just then a plaintive cry was heard from the kitchen, and with one leap the barn-cat was out of her nest and running up to the kitchen door. She didn’t dare go in; for there was Hannah, and she knew by experience that she would be driven out if she attempted to enter. What was to be done?

The barn-cat jumped on the window-sill and looked in. There was her darling in the box by the stove and crying helplessly for her. The mother cat gave a low mew, which the baby kitten heard and understood just as a human baby understands when its mother speaks soothingly to it.

“Oh dear!” exclaimed the barn-cat, “if I could only get into that kitchen! I know what I’ll do. I’ll tell Mrs. Polly about it, and see what she advises; she’s very wise.”

So the barn-cat jumped down from the kitchen window and on the sill of the dining-room window, which stood open. Posy was in the room, and so was Mrs. Winton; but they couldn’t understand the language animals converse in.

“Why, there is the barn-cat,” cried Posy, “right on the window-seat!”

“Don’t frighten her away, but watch her quietly,” said Mamma; “I like to have her come about the house;” and Posy was very careful not to make any noise.

“I do believe that barn-cat is telling Polly something, Mamma,” said Posy in a low tone; “her keeps mewing, and Polly looks just as if her was listening.”

“Polly is certainly very talkative this morning,” answered Mamma; “it really does seem as if they were talking together.”

“I wish I knew what they were saying,” said Posy.

This is what they said:—

“I’m in trouble, Mrs. Polly,” began the barn-cat, “and I want you to help me out of it.”

“Well,” answered Polly, with her very wisest expression, “what’s the matter?”

Then the barn-cat told about Posy’s mistake, and how anxious it made her to have her kitten away from her.

“It’s just like Posy,” answered Polly; “she’s a very mischievous child. She always tweaks my tail whenever she gets a chance.”

“But she’s a dear, loving child,” said the barn-cat warmly. “How she did cry when they gave away my last kittens!”

“Yes, she’s a good little thing,” said Polly. “If ’twas anybody else that pulled my tail, I’d give ’em such a nip that they wouldn’t try it again in a hurry; but nobody could hurt Posy. She does fish some of my peanuts out of my cage and eat ’em up sometimes, but then she doesn’t mean any harm.”

“What I want to know is whether you can think of any way for me to get my kitten back,” said the barn-cat. “I tried to make Posy understand what a dreadful mistake she’d made, but she was in such a hurry she didn’t see it.”

Mrs. Polly put her head on one side in a very knowing and contemplative manner. After a few moments’ reflection she said, “The thing to do is to get Hannah out of the kitchen for a while.”

“That’s very evident,” said the canary, who had been listening attentively and didn’t like to be left out of the conversation.

“If it’s so very evident,” said Mrs. Polly, bristling up, “why don’t you do it?”

“I didn’t say I could do it; but if I could talk as you can, I would,” answered the canary good-naturedly.

“How would you do it, pray?” asked Mrs. Polly in an irritable tone.

“Why, I’d call Hannah the way Mrs. Winton does. I heard you call her the other day, and I declare I wouldn’t have believed it wasn’t she. I never knew a bird that could talk as plainly as you do.”

The canary was so good-natured that Mrs. Polly was rather ashamed of her ill-temper, and gave a sneeze and cough to hide her embarrassment.

“Well,” she said, after a pause, “perhaps that’s as good a way as any other. I did think of yelling to make her think I’d got my head caught between the wires, but Posy doesn’t like to hear such a noise. You go ’round to the kitchen door,” she said to the barn-cat; “and when Hannah leaves the kitchen you just dart in, seize your kitten, and run off with it.”

The barn-cat hardly waited to hear the last words, and ran around to the kitchen door. She had hardly arrived there when she heard Polly call “Hannah!” so exactly like Mrs. Winton that Hannah dropped the broom with which she was sweeping the floor, and answering, “Yes, ma’am,” hurried into the dining-room.

In darted the barn-cat, caught up her darling in her mouth, and had it back in her own nest in the barn before Hannah had discovered how Polly had “fooled” her, as she called it.

But when the house-cat came home from her visit, imagine what was her surprise and grief to find one of her babies gone!

“That barn-cat!” she exclaimed, “I believe she has stolen it because it’s so much prettier than her common-looking babies. She was always as jealous as she could be of them!” and out to the barn went the house-cat.

“I never visited her before,” she said to herself, “she’s so countrified in her ways and lives in a barn; but I must see if she’s got my baby.”

The barn-cat knew what she was coming for as soon as she caught sight of her.

“I want my kitten,” said the house-cat, going up to the box; and she stepped very daintily and held her head very high, as if she were afraid of soiling her shining fur. “I should think you’d be ashamed of yourself to slink into the house and steal my kitten! But I don’t suppose you know any better, as you’ve never been used to good society.”

“I didn’t steal your kitten! I don’t want your old kitten; it isn’t half so smart or pretty as mine are.”

“Indeed!” answered the house-cat with a toss of her head. “Your common-looking tiger-kittens! Look at my baby’s soft skin and her gentle little ways!”

“I’ll leave it to Posy if mine are not the smartest and handsomest,” answered the barn-cat angrily. “They had hard work to get anybody to take your kittens the last time, and mine were spoken for before they had their eyes open!”

The house-cat was very angry, but she knew there was truth in what the barn-cat said; so she only repeated, “Indeed!” in a very scornful manner, and tossed her head.

“You coddle your children too much,” continued the barn-cat. “You keep them by the warm stove, and don’t take them out doors often enough. That makes them tender.”

“When I want your advice I’ll ask for it,” answered the house-cat loftily, as she took up her kitten and went home with it.

“It was a pretty enough kitten, though I wasn’t going to tell her so,” said the barn-cat to herself. “I think I could have made a smart kitten of it, but it will only be spoiled now;” and the barn-cat sighed as she lapped a rough spot on one of her kitten’s ears.

“Meaw! meaw!” was heard in plaintive tones just outside the barn-door. It was a new voice, and the barn-cat quickly sprang up to see what was the matter. On the step of the barn-door sat a little gray kitten with a rough and muddy fur, who looked as if she had travelled a long way. She kept uttering sad little mews; and as she turned her head towards the barn-cat the latter saw that she was blind.

CHAPTER III.

“Well, where did you come from, I should like to know?” asked the barn-cat sharply; for the little gray kitten didn’t present a very respectable appearance, and she was very particular about the company her family kept.

“Oh! I’ve come a long, long way,” said the gray kitten in a sad little voice, “all the way from the other side of the town, and I am very tired.”

“Why didn’t you stay at home?” said the barn-cat. “Home’s the best place for young people.”

“I haven’t got any home,” sighed the gray kitten.

“That’s a likely story,” said the barn-cat shortly. “Where’s your mother? She must be a nice kind of a mother not to provide a home for her children. Every cat can do that.”

“I haven’t got any mother,” said the little gray kitten sadly.

The barn-cat gave her nose a sharp rub with her paw,—a habit she had when her feelings were touched.

“Well, you live somewhere, I suppose. Who gives you food? You can’t live on air.”

“Last night I slept in a hollow tree,” said the gray kitten, “and I assure you I don’t get much to eat. If it hadn’t been for a little girl sharing her food with me, I should have starved long ago, for I am ’most blind and can’t see well enough to make my own living.”

“I should like to hear your story,” said the barn-cat, “and then we’ll see what can be done for you. Let me see—” and she rubbed her ear in a contemplative way. “I think we’d better let Mrs. Polly and the canary hear your story, too. They are both pretty wise, and three heads are better than one any day. There comes that house-cat; she’s nobody.”

So the barn-cat led the way to the open window where the parrot’s and canary’s cages were hanging.

“What under the sun have you got there?” asked Mrs. Polly, eying the poor little gray kitten shrewdly.

The barn-cat had jumped on the window-seat, but the gray kitten had modestly seated herself on the ground under the window. The house-cat, too, had joined the group, and placed herself where she could watch the little gray kitten. She stared at the poor little thing so scornfully that she didn’t know which way to look; so she looked on the ground and presented a very miserable appearance indeed, with her soiled and rumpled fur and her poor half-blind eyes.

“Where did you pick her up?” asked Mrs. Polly.

“I don’t know much more about her than you do,” answered the barn-cat. “I found her a few minutes ago on the door-step of the barn, and she tells me she has come from the other side of the town, and that she hasn’t any mother. I thought you’d better see her and hear her story, and perhaps you’d think of something that could be done for her.”

Mrs. Polly put on her wise look and gave a little Ahem! for it always gratified her to be looked up to and asked for advice.

Meanwhile the house-cat sat staring the poor gray kitten out of countenance. “My advice is to send her back where she came from,” she said. “Anybody can see that she’s only a tramp. I won’t have my children taught any of her common ways. Besides, there are too many cats around already,” she added, eying the barn-cat so scornfully that it was very evident she referred to her and her kittens.

“Whoever she is and wherever she comes from, it’s as plain as the nose on your face that she’s been well brought up,” answered the barn-cat quickly. “She’s quiet and lady-like in her manners, and that’s more than can be said of some who’ve had the best of advantages.”

“She’s a common kitten, probably brought up in a barn,” said the house-cat contemptuously, “and has no style whatever.”

This was too much for the barn-cat’s endurance, and she gave an angry spit, when the canary, who was always the peace-maker, interposed.

“Whatever she may be,” said the canary gently, “she’s neglected and unfortunate; so, if Mrs. Polly will find out her story, I’m sure she will find a way to help her out of her troubles. If her wise head can’t, I don’t know whose can.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Polly, “I should have done so long ago if our friends here hadn’t taken up so much time in disputing. Now, little gray kitten, tell us all you know about yourself,—where you were born, and how it happens that you are left alone in this big world to take care of yourself.”

“I can’t remember very much about myself,” began the little gray kitten in a plaintive voice, “but I know we were always poor. My mother worked very hard to support us, for the woman who kept us was very mean and never gave us anything to eat. I have heard my mother say she was the meanest woman she ever knew. She said she had heard her say that she kept a cat to get rid of the rats and mice, and that she expected her to earn her own living.”

“Well,” interrupted the barn-cat, “that is all very well for a single cat; but when a cat has a young family it comes pretty hard to keep them supplied with food. I never let my children eat mice; it doesn’t agree with them,—gives ’em the stomach-ache and makes ’em fitty.”

“It’s no harm to give ’em a mouse to play with,” said the house-cat; “I often do mine.”

“When you catch one, which isn’t often,” said the barn-cat in an undertone.

“What was that you said?” asked the house-cat sharply; “be kind enough to say it a little louder.”

“Oh, come, come,” put in the canary, “do let the gray kitten go on with her story. You were telling us that your mother had to catch all the food for you.”

“Yes,” continued the little gray kitten, “so she did. She often brought us mice, and sometimes a bird,—birds agreed best with us, she said.”

“Dear me!” exclaimed the canary with a shudder, “what a very bloodthirsty cat your mother must have been!”

“Excuse me, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” said the little gray kitten, so politely that Mrs. Polly said to herself with a little nod of satisfaction,—

“Very well brought up, indeed!”

“Go on, my dear, with your story,” said Mrs. Polly, aloud. “How many were there of you?”

“There were only my brother and myself,” answered the little gray kitten. “My mother said there were two others, but they died very young,—before they had their eyes open. She said she thought they didn’t have enough to eat.”

“Well, how about your mother? I’m anxious to hear about her,” said the barn-cat.

“It makes me very sad to think about it,” continued the little gray kitten, almost crying. “One day my mother told me and my brother that she was going to teach us how to hunt. It was the first time we had been out of doors; we lived in an old shed. It was a very pleasant day, and the air was so fresh, and the birds did look so tempting— I beg your pardon,” she added, as the canary began to flutter nervously.

“Never mind; go on with your story,” said the canary good-naturedly. “It’s your nature; you aren’t to blame.”

The little gray kitten was so embarrassed by this interruption that she forgot where she had left off in her story; but then she was so very little!

“You were saying,” said Mrs. Polly, “that your mother took you out of doors to teach you to hunt.”

“Oh yes,” answered the gray kitten, “so I was. Well, it was very pleasant, and we enjoyed ourselves very much, and I caught a little field-mouse, and so did my brother; and our mother praised us, and said that after all perhaps we would turn out smarter cats than if we had been brought up to have everything we wanted, for then we might have become lazy.”

“Very true, indeed,” interrupted the barn-cat, with a triumphant glance at the house-cat. “Your mother must have been a very sensible cat!”

“Well, then what happened, little one?” asked Mrs. Polly; for the gray kitten was again thrown off her balance by the interruption.

“The next is very sad, indeed,” said the gray kitten. “We were going home, so happy to think our dear mother was so pleased with us, when all at once we heard a dreadful noise. My brother and I were frightened half to death, for we had never heard a noise like it. My mother said it was a dog, and there was a boy with it,—a bad boy; my mother said all boys were bad—”

“Not all boys,” said the barn-cat. “Tom isn’t a bad boy; he wouldn’t hurt a kitten for the world. I’d trust him anywhere with my kittens.”

“He isn’t so mischievous as Posy is,” said the house-cat.

“Posy isn’t mischievous,” said the barn-cat warmly; “she doesn’t mean to do mischief. You can’t call it mischief when she thinks she’s doing something to help you all the time.”

“Please don’t interrupt so often,” said the canary; “you said, little kitten, that a big dog and a boy came up.”

“Yes,” continued the little gray kitten; “and as soon as the boy saw us he said, ‘Hie, Rover, seize ’em, sir!’ and the big dog, looking, oh, so fierce and angry, rushed at us with his mouth wide open, and making that dreadful noise. There was a tree near us, and my mother told my brother and me to climb up the tree as quickly as we could. My poor mother gave us the first chance, for she knew we couldn’t climb as well as she could, and she stood at the foot of the tree with her fur all bristling up and spitting at the big dog. We got up to the first branches where the dog couldn’t reach us; but before my poor mother had time to follow us the big dog seized her, and gave her one shake and killed her.”

Her hearers were very quiet as the little gray kitten ceased and sat crying softly to herself. The barn-cat gave her nose a sharp rub with her paw, and then jumped down and examined very carefully a hole under the window, as if she expected to find a mouse there. Her feelings were very much touched, for she couldn’t help thinking how dreadful it would be if her little kittens were left without a mother to care for them.

“Well,” she said, after a pause, coming back to her place on the window-sill, “what did your brother and you do then?”

“We waited till the boy and the big dog were gone,” said the little gray kitten, “and then we climbed down from the tree and went home. It was very lonely in the old shed, and we almost starved to death, for we were too small to catch mice enough to satisfy our appetites. My brother got tired of living so, and said he was going to try to find a better home where they would feed him, but I stayed where I was.”

“How about that girl you said used to feed you?” asked the house-cat.

“She was a poor little girl who didn’t have any mother either, and the woman I belonged to made her work hard and gave her very little to eat; but she pitied me, and often went hungry herself to share her food with me.”

“What made your eyes so bad, my dear?” asked Mrs. Polly kindly.

“I think it must have been the cold; it was very cold in the shed.”

There was a few minutes’ silence, and then Mrs. Polly said,—

“I have been thinking the matter over, and I believe the best thing to do is to get Posy to help us. You put yourself in the way where she’ll see you,” she said to the little gray kitten, “and all will be well.”

The poor little girl and the blind kitten.—Page [45.]

CHAPTER IV.

Posy and Tom were seated on the kitchen door-step, and the two house-kittens lay in Posy’s lap. Posy was in a very thoughtful mood, and sat watching the kittens in silence.

“I’ve been wondering, Tom,” she said at last, “where God keeps his babies that haven’t got any wings.”

“Why, babies don’t ever have wings, Posy,” said Tom.

“Yes, they do, the angel babies. I mean the ones he brings down here to people.”

“Oh!” said Tom, “I suppose he has some nice place to keep ’em in.”

“I should think,” said Posy thoughtfully, “that we might see Him when he goes around from house to house.”

“Why, of course we can’t,” answered Tom decidedly.

Posy played with the kittens in her lap.

“Come, Kitty, and have your bonnet on,” she said, folding her handkerchief over the head of one of the kittens and tying it under her chin. “Poor thing, you haven’t got a single dress after your name, and I must make you one. And I guess I’d better make some little cow-catchers around your forehead; they are very becoming to your little rosy face.”

“Cow-catchers!” laughed Tom. “You mean beau-catchers! What a little goosie you are, Posy!”

“I know that just as well as you can,” answered Posy, blushing; and she thought it best to turn the conversation.

“Tom,” she said, “I guess I shall marry you when I’m grown up,—either you or Papa.”

“People can’t marry their fathers!” said Tom, with an air of superior wisdom, “because they’ve got married already, you know.”

“Well, then, I shall marry you, because I love you so much. People can marry their brothers, can’t they, Tom?”

“I don’t know about that,” answered Tom shrewdly.

“Well, then, let me see—who shall I marry? I did think of marrying Mary Weston, but her’s married already, you know. I guess I’ll marry Mr. Dawson.”

“I know why,” said Tom quickly; “it’s because he’s got some puppies! Oh, you selfish girl!”

“I don’t care,” said poor Posy in a very crestfallen manner; “I’d give you one of the puppies, Tom.”

“I guess Mr. Dawson will be out of the world long before you’re ready to git married, Posy,” said Hannah, who had been listening to the conversation between the children; “he must be nigh onto seventy if he’s a day. Well, Tom, who do you intend to marry?”

“If I marry for love,” answered Tom, “I shall marry Auntie; but if I marry for money, I shall marry Katie Thomas, because her father’s got more money than old Mr. Thornton, and he’s got a hundred dollars in the bank.”

“Well, I never!” said Hannah; “but I guess I’d better be about my work. I wish that lazy Michael would bring me in some wood. He grows worse every day. I bet he’s asleep somewhere,—he usually is asleep when there’s anything to be done.”

“He’s gone to get Major shod,” said Tom; “I saw him go down the yard with him.”

“There he comes!” said Posy, as a man appeared leading a handsome chestnut horse up the yard.

“Good-morning, Michael,” called Posy when he was opposite the kitchen door.

“Good-morning, Miss,” answered Michael.

“Have you had a nap to-day, Michael?” asked Posy in her sweetest way.

“No, Miss,” answered Michael, as he led the horse into the barn.

“That child does beat anything I ever see,” said Hannah, laughing, as she went about her work again.

Suddenly a dreadful noise was heard from the direction of the dining-room window,—shrieks as if somebody were in great distress.

“Polly’s got her head caught between the wires,” cried Tom, jumping up and running around to the window. Posy quickly dumped the kittens into their nest and followed him as fast as she could. As soon as they appeared Polly burst into a loud laugh.

“The next time I shan’t believe you, ma’am, you’ve fooled me so many times,” said Tom.

“Oh, Tom,” cried Posy, “look, see! see this poor little gray kitten! Poor thing, her’s awful thin, and her looks as if her didn’t have any home.”

“Why, she’s blind!” said Tom. “Poor kitty, come, I won’t hurt you;” and he lifted the little gray kitten very gently, and sat down on the piazza step softly stroking it.

“Her isn’t one bit afraid of us,” said Posy, seating herself beside Tom and stroking the kitten too. “Her knows we won’t hurt her, don’t her, Tom?”

The little gray kitten had heard all about the children, and felt perfectly secure with them.

“Her’s purring!” cried Posy joyfully. “I mean to ask Mamma if I can keep her.” And off ran Posy to Mamma’s room.

“There’s a poor little gray kitten out doors, Mamma,” said Posy, all out of breath from hurrying, “and her’s blind of one eye. Can’t I keep her and take care of her? Her looks like her didn’t have any home at all.”

“Yes,” said Mamma, “you may ask Hannah to give you a saucer of milk for her.”

“Her’s blind of both eyes,” cried Posy, bursting into tears; “but I thought you wouldn’t let me keep her if you knew it.”

“Why, my dear little girl,” answered Mamma, drawing Posy to her side, “I love to have you kind to animals, and particularly so to those that are helpless and can’t take care of themselves. Don’t cry, my darling, you shall give this poor little kitten a comfortable home, and make her as happy as if she were not blind.”

“But it makes me feel bad to think her can’t see,” said Posy, sobbing.

“Think, my darling, how much more comfortable you can make her than she has ever been before; and perhaps it is not so bad as you think,—she may not be wholly blind.”

So Mamma put down her sewing, and went with Posy to look at the little gray kitten, who all this time had been purring away contentedly in Tom’s lap.

“Oh no,” said Mamma, “she isn’t wholly blind, she can see out of one eye; and we will bathe her eyes with some warm water and a soft sponge, and she will feel as comfortable as possible.”

“I knew how it would be,” said the parrot to the canary, as the kitten was carried off to the kitchen to be fed.

“Kind people, every one of them,” answered the canary, hopping about for joy. “Hallo! what’s the barn-cat up to? Do look at her!”

The barn-cat was creeping cautiously along the yard, her body almost touching the ground and her eyes glowing with eagerness. Sometimes she stopped for an instant and swished her tail excitedly, then went on again. The canary and Mrs. Polly soon saw what it was that excited her so. A little sparrow sat on a stone a few rods off, pluming his feathers in a very unconcerned manner. The barn-cat stopped and wriggled her body for a final spring, when all at once Mrs. Polly screamed out, “Scat! scat!” in so loud a voice and so exactly like a human being that the barn-cat stopped in her spring and the sparrow flew up into a bush opposite the dining-room window.

Certainly the sparrow was a very rowdy-looking bird. His feathers were rumpled and many of them broken, and he had a very independent air that was a great contrast to the refined manner of the well-kept canary.

“Who are you, pray?” asked Mrs. Polly, eying the new-comer curiously.

“Can’t you see?” answered the sparrow in a hoarse voice.

“It’s very evident you’re a tramp,” said Mrs. Polly. “What do you want here?”

“I didn’t know you’d got a lease of the place, or I wouldn’t have come,” answered the sparrow pertly.

“Come now, keep a civil tongue in your head,” said Mrs. Polly. “You’ll find it to your advantage. Where do you live?”

“Wherever I can. Sometimes in one place, sometimes in another.”

“That looks bad,” said Mrs. Polly gravely. “Did you ever hear the proverb that ‘rolling stones gather no moss’?”

“Now look here, Mrs. Parrot, I haven’t asked anything of you, and I ain’t going to. I acknowledge I’m a tramp, if having no home makes a bird one. I get my food where I can, but I don’t do anybody any harm. If I prefer to live that way, whose business is it but my own?”

“You’ve been fighting, I see,” said Mrs. Polly gravely; “’tisn’t respectable.”

“Now look here, ma’am! You’re kept in a cage, and have your food given you regular, and don’t have to trouble yourself about where your next meal is to come from. I live where I can, pick up my own meals where I can find ’em; if I can’t find ’em I go without. I sleep out in all kinds of weather, and that makes my feathers rough and my voice hoarse; but I want you to understand that I’m just as good a fellow as if I had a red tail and a hooked nose.”

“That’s very true,” said the good-natured canary, “I should like to make your acquaintance. You go about so much you must see and hear a good many things that we don’t.”

“Well, I guess I could tell you a thing or two that would make your feathers curl,” answered the stranger.

Just then the children came along with the little gray kitten that had been washed and fed, and seated themselves on the steps of the piazza.

“Hallo!” called out the sparrow to the little gray kitten, “how in the world did you turn up here?”

“Do you know her?” asked Mrs. Polly.

“Well, I should rather think I did, seeing as I have lived, as you might say, in the same family.”

“How is little Nancy?” asked the little gray kitten. “I have worried a good deal about that child since I left home. That’s the little girl I told you was so kind to me,” she said in explanation to the parrot.

“She’s well,” answered the sparrow, “but I pity the poor thing with all my heart. This morning she came out and sat on the door-step, and I saw she was crying, and she says to me, ‘Billy’ (she always called me Billy), ‘I can’t give you anything to eat this morning because I haven’t got anything myself, and I didn’t get any supper last night either, Billy, because I couldn’t sell any matches.’ She didn’t know I sensed what she was saying, but I did. Look here! You seem pretty well off around here. I see the little gray kitten has fallen into good hands. Can’t you do something for a poor child that’s half starved and abused?”

“Oh, do, Mrs. Polly!” said the little gray kitten. “You were so kind to me, do find some way to get that poor little Nancy with these good people.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Polly, “I’ll think it over and see what can be done about it.”

“How loud this gray kitten does purr,” said Posy. “I guess her’s telling us how happy her is to get here, don’t you, Tom?”

“Posy and Tom were seated on the kitchen door-step.”—Page [47.]

CHAPTER V.

The next morning Major, the horse, was eagerly eating his breakfast of nice fresh oats. He was an easy-tempered fellow, but this morning he was greatly annoyed, and with good reason; he was very hungry and must share his breakfast with several rats that were bold enough to venture into his manger and steal his oats from before his very eyes.

“I do wish my friend the barn-cat would not take the opportunity to go out while I am eating,” said Major to himself. “I knew how it would be when she told me she must go and see Mrs. Polly about this plan of bringing that child Nancy here. ‘When the cat’s away the mice will play;’ and what’s more, the rats too. Here, old Graywhisker, you come any nearer and I’ll bite off your tail!”

“I’d like to see you do it,” snarled the old rat; and as he spoke he showed his long yellow teeth with one of them broken off, which gave him a very disagreeable expression. “I’d like to see you stop us from eating a few of your oats. You’re too fat already; I heard Mr. Winton tell Michael so the other day.”

“I should be loath to tell you what I’ve heard him say about you,” answered Major angrily; “you wouldn’t sleep very well nights if I did.”

The old rat forgot his usual caution, and came nearer to Major’s face than ever before; and Major, his patience gone, gave a sudden snort and pushed them all out of the manger with his nose. Then when he was left alone he went on eating his breakfast. After that he found himself becoming very sleepy, and shutting his eyes he fell into a doze. As he slept the old rat stole quietly out of his hole and looked cautiously about.

“Come,” he said to the others, “come out on the barn floor, for I have something of importance to say to you, and this is a good time, as Major is asleep, and the barn-cat off. Here, you Silvertail, you keep a sharp lookout in every direction, and tell me if you see the barn-cat coming.”

The young rat addressed, quickly climbed on the window-sill, whence he could command a fine view of the entrances to the barn.

“Do you see anything of the barn-cat?” asked the old rat.

“Yes, I see her right in front of the dining-room window; and by the way she swishes her tail I know she’s talking pretty fast.”

“Well, let her swish,” answered the old rat; “she’ll find there are some people in the world as smart as she is.”

The old rat, Graywhisker, seated himself, and the other rats came flocking out of their holes and placed themselves in a circle about him. Some of them brought their young families, as they couldn’t trust them alone.

“I don’t see any of our friends the mice,” said Graywhisker, looking about with his sharp old eyes. “Some of you young fellows run over to Mrs. Silverskin, and tell her I want to see her at once; and be quick about it too.”

Two young rats started off, and began to climb to the hay-mow, playing tag on the way.

“Here, none of your fooling!” called out the old rat sharply, as one of them gave a loud squeak.

This squeak awoke Major from his nap, and hearing voices his curiosity was aroused. “I guess I’ll keep my ears open, and perhaps I shall hear something,” he said to himself; “you can’t trust these rats out of your sight.”

So Major made believe asleep, and even gave a snore occasionally to mislead the rats; and he did completely mystify them.

Soon the two young rats returned, scampering headlong down from the mow, and followed more leisurely by Mrs. Silverskin, who had a very timid, gentle air, and who looked very small and refined by the side of the great clumsy rats with their bold countenances.

“Now sit still and listen with all your ears,” began old Graywhisker, “for I’ve something of importance to say, and our time is short, as that arch fiend, the barn-cat, may return at any moment. To cut a long matter short, the barn-cat has introduced another cat here. To be sure, she’s half blind, and a half-grown kitten, but still she’s to be dreaded. Then there’s been a sparrow loafing around here lately, and they’re laying a plot this very minute to get a good-for-nothing girl here, but we’ll put a stop to that. I hid under the piazza yesterday and heard the whole story,—how this girl had fed the lazy sparrow and the half-blind kitten (it’s good enough for her, and I wish she was blind of both eyes), and how they must think of some way to get this poor child among these good people. They’re talking it over now, and I’ve set Sharpears to watch and tell me what they’ve said. The barn-cat said that if they could arrange matters so that Posy could hear her story, she would bring it all about. Posy, indeed! I hate that child! She makes a dreadful fuss over all the other animals, but I heard her say the other day to the barn-cat, ‘You mustn’t catch the pretty little birdies, kitty, but you can catch just as many of the great ugly rats as you’ve a mind to.’ I paid her off, though; I stole her piece of cake that she laid down on the door-step when she went into the house, and she felt awfully about it. It was real fun to see how disappointed she was when she came back and found it gone.”

Here Mrs. Silverskin, who had sat meekly listening, spoke in a soft little voice,—

“I don’t believe Posy could see any animal suffer. I saw her sprinkle some crumbs down in front of a hole one day, and say, ‘These are for the little mice to eat.’”

“Oh, yes! you take her part, do you?” said old Graywhisker, fiercely glaring at the poor little mouse. “If that is your opinion, you just clear out of my barn. I want you to understand that I won’t have any hypocrites around these premises.”

“You can’t call me a hypocrite,” said the little mouse meekly; “I only said that Posy was a kind-hearted child. I am sure I dislike the barn-cat as much as you do, and it gives me great uneasiness to think there’s another of that species on the premises if she is half blind. I am afraid our children will get careless, thinking she can’t see them, and some day venture too near. I am sure I shall never have another easy moment;” and Mrs. Silverskin looked more anxious than ever.

“Here comes Sharpears creeping along this way,” called out Silvertail from the window.

The whole company looked anxiously in the direction of their private entrance, and Sharpears soon appeared at the opening.

“Well,” said old Graywhisker impatiently, “what did you hear?”

“In the first place,” began Sharpears, “Major has been complaining that we eat too many of his oats. He says that when the barn-cat’s away we bother him so that he can’t take any comfort in his eating.”

“He eats too much,” said Graywhisker; “that’s what’s the matter with him. Just hear him snore! He’ll go off in a fit of apoplexy one of these days! I wish he would!”

“The barn-cat said she did her best; that she knew the rats and mice did take advantage of her absence, but that she was going to train the gray kitten to watch while she was away.”

“We’ll fix that gray kitten,” snarled the old rat, bringing his long yellow teeth together in a very unpleasant manner.