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.]