"The very image of our grimalkin, I do declare!" cried the second crone after a moment. "It must be hers—there can be no doubt at all about it."
So saying, she put her hand down and stroked the back of the kitten, as if about to take it out of the basket.
As soon as she touched it, however, the little animal, young as it was, appeared to go into a paroxysm of fear and fury; it growled and spit, made as if it would spring out of the basket, and suddenly inflicted a severe scratch on the hand which was about to seize it.
The old woman's face immediately became distorted with rage, and as she hastily withdrew her hand, she fixed her eyes steadily upon the kitten, muttering at the same time some words which the children could not understand, but which sounded in their ears like anything but a prayer. Neither of the crones, however, tried further to interfere with the kitten, but begged of the children to give them money, saying that they were nearly starving.
Billy of course had nothing, and Mary only a penny, but she thought it best to give that for fear of being bewitched if she refused; so, sorrowfully enough, the poor child drew out her only coin and placed it in the hand of one of the hags, who grinned frightfully by way of thanks, and allowed the children to proceed on their way—although before they did so they could not help noticing the strange conduct of grimalkin, who threw herself on the side of the road, turned over and over, grinned like a Cheshire cat, and appeared to be convulsed with laughter at all that had occurred.
Mary and Billy, however, glad to have got away from the old women, hurried forward towards Farmer Long's dwelling.
But now the conduct of the kitten became inexplicable. Up to the time of their meeting the crones, it had behaved like a decent little animal of tender years, nestling quietly in its basket, and giving no trouble to anybody.
It now took quite a different course. It moaned and whined as if it wanted to get out—it pushed against the basket, first on one side and then on the other, as if trying to force its way through, and behaved in all respects as if it was a mad kitten,—although, as I never saw a mad kitten, I am not sure how they do behave exactly—but this was Farmer Barrett's expression, and a man of his years and experience was not likely to be wrong.
But more than this, although the kitten was young and small, and had therefore been very light and easy to carry, scarcely had the children passed the crones than its weight seemed to increase vastly, and it became four times as heavy as before, until poor Mary's arm quite ached with carrying it.
Billy, seeing her trouble, advised her to turn it out into the woods; but Mary would not do this, being determined to obey her father's orders, so she trudged steadily on until they came to the farm to which they had been sent.