“I ain’t naughty,” said the child.
“You are, too,” responded Randy, “to plague kitty like that. You just take her out of that rain-water tub this minute! If she wasn’t the best old cat in the world, she would have scratched you well for ducking her like that.”
Prue tried to lift pussy out, and Randy ran to help her.
Poor pussy! If Randy had been a few minutes later, she must surely have been drowned, for, just as Randy arrived, Prue was holding Tabby’s head under water “to let it soak,” she said.
“What ever made you do such a thing?” questioned Randy, when the cat was once more on dry land; “don’t you know that in a few minutes more you would have drowned her?”
“Drowned!” said Prue in a horrified whisper, “drowned, did you say, Randy?”
“Why, of course,” said Randy, impatiently; “don’t you know she’d drown with her head under water?”
“Why, Randy, that’s awful!” said Prue. “I didn’t mean to hurt Tabby. I only meant to help her. She comed down from the field what’s been burned over, and she was all smutty, and I thought I’d give her a good washing; so I put her in the tub, but the smut sticked awful, and I thought I’d soak her and p’rhaps she’d wash easier; and, Randy, whatever you say, she isn’t drowned one mite. Just see her washing herself dry in the sun.”
“Oh, Prue, Prue!” said Randy, “what shall I do with you? You do the queerest things! Go tell Tabby you’re sorry this minute. If kitty had died, just think how you’d felt.”
“Now, don’t you make me cry, Randy,” said Prue, “’cause you know I love Tabby, and I didn’t mean to hurt her.”