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?”
