The visitor was a neighbor, Mrs.
Ribby; she had called to borrow some
yeast.
Mr. Tabitha came downstairs
mewing dreadfully—"Come in,
Cousin Ribby, come in, and sit ye
down! I'm in sad trouble, Cousin
Ribby," said Tabitha, shedding tears.
"I've lost my dear son Thomas; I'm
afraid the rats have got him." She
wiped her eyes with her apron.
"He's a bad kitten, Cousin Tabitha;
he made a cat's cradle of my best
bonnet last time I came to tea. Where
have you looked for him?"
"All over the house! The rats are too
many for me. What a thing it is to
have an unruly family!" said Mrs.
Tabitha Twitchit.
"I'm not afraid of rats; I will help
you to find him; and whip him, too!
What is all that soot in the fender?"
"The chimney wants sweeping—
Oh, dear me, Cousin Ribby—now
Moppet and Mittens are gone!
"They have both got out of the
cupboard!"
Ribby and Tabitha set to work to
search the house thoroughly again.
They poked under the beds with
Ribby's umbrella and they rummaged
in cupboards. They even fetched a
candle and looked inside a clothes
chest in one of the attics. They could
not find anything, but once they
heard a door bang and somebody
scuttered downstairs.
"Yes, it is infested with rats," said
Tabitha tearfully. "I caught seven
young ones out of one hole in the back
kitchen, and we had them for dinner
last Saturday. And once I saw the old
father rat—an enormous old rat—
Cousin Ribby. I was just going to jump
upon him, when he showed his yellow
teeth at me and whisked down the
hole.
"The rats get upon my nerves,
Cousin Ribby," said Tabitha.
Ribby and Tabitha searched and
searched. They both heard a curious
roly-poly noise under the attic floor.
But there was nothing to be seen.
They returned to the kitchen.
"Here's one of your kittens at least,"
said Ribby, dragging Moppet out of
the flour barrel.
They shook the flour off her and set
her down on the kitchen floor. She
seemed to be in a terrible fright.
"Oh! Mother, Mother," said
Moppet, "there's been an old woman
rat in the kitchen, and she's stolen
some of the dough!"
The two cats ran to look at the
dough pan. Sure enough there were
marks of little scratching fingers, and
a lump of dough was gone!
"Which way did she go, Moppet?"
But Moppet had been too much
frightened to peep out of the barrel
again.
Ribby and Tabitha took her with
them to keep her safely in sight, while
they went on with their search.
They went into the dairy.
The first thing they found was
Mittens, hiding in an empty jar.
They tipped over the jar, and she
scrambled out.
"Oh, Mother, Mother!" said
Mittens—
"Oh! Mother, Mother, there has
been an old man rat in the dairy—a
dreadful 'normous big rat, Mother;
and he's stolen a pat of butter and the
rolling pin."
Ribby and Tabitha looked at one
another.
"A rolling pin and butter! Oh, my
poor son Thomas!" exclaimed
Tabitha, wringing her paws.
"A rolling pin?" said Ribby. "Did we
not hear a roly-poly noise in the attic
when we were looking into that
chest?"
Ribby and Tabitha rushed upstairs
again. Sure enough the roly-poly noise
was still going on quite distinctly
under the attic floor.
"This is serious, Cousin Tabitha,"
said Ribby. "We must send for John
Joiner at once, with a saw."
Now, this is what had been
happening to Tom Kitten, and it
shows how very unwise it is to go up a
chimney in a very old house, where a
person does not know his way, and
where there are enormous rats.
Tom Kitten did not want to be shut
up in a cupboard. When he saw that
his mother was going to bake, he
determined to hide.
He looked about for a nice
convenient place, and he fixed upon
the chimney.
The fire had only just been lighted,
and it was not hot; but there was a
white choky smoke from the green
sticks. Tom Kitten got upon the fender
and looked up. It was a big old-
fashioned fireplace.
The chimney itself was wide
enough inside for a man to stand up
and walk about. So there was plenty
of room for a little Tom Cat.
He jumped right up into the
fireplace, balancing himself upon the
iron bar where the kettle hangs.
Tom Kitten took another big jump
off the bar and landed on a ledge high
up inside the chimney, knocking down
some soot into the fender.
Tom Kitten coughed and choked
with the smoke; he could hear the
sticks beginning to crackle and burn
in the fireplace down below. He made
up his mind to climb right to the top,
and get out on the slates, and try to
catch sparrows.
"I cannot go back. If I slipped I
might fall in the fire and singe my
beautiful tail and my little blue
jacket."
The chimney was a very big old-
fashioned one. It was built in the days
when people burnt logs of wood upon
the hearth.
The chimney stack stood up above
the roof like a little stone tower, and
the daylight shone down from the top,
under the slanting slates that kept out
the rain.
Tom Kitten was getting very
frightened! He climbed up, and up,
and up.
Then he waded sideways through
inches of soot. He was like a little
sweep himself.
It was most confusing in the dark.
One flue seemed to lead into another.
There was less smoke, but Tom
Kitten felt quite lost.
He scrambled up and up; but
before he reached the chimney top he
came to a place where somebody had
loosened a stone in the wall. There
were some mutton bones lying about.
"This seems funny," said Tom
Kitten. "Who has been gnawing bones
up here in the chimney? I wish I had
never come! And what a funny smell?
It is something like mouse, only
dreadfully strong. It makes me
sneeze," said Tom Kitten.
He squeezed through the hole in
the wall and dragged himself along a
most uncomfortably tight passage
where there was scarcely any light.
He groped his way carefully for
several yards; he was at the back of
the skirting board in the attic, where
there is a little mark * in the picture.
All at once he fell head over heels in
the dark, down a hole, and landed on
a heap of very dirty rags.
When Tom Kitten picked himself up
and looked about him, he found
himself in a place that he had never
seen before, although he had lived all
his life in the house. It was a very
small stuffy fusty room, with boards,
and rafters, and cobwebs, and lath
and plaster.
Opposite to him—as far away as he
could sit—was an enormous rat.
"What do you mean by tumbling
into my bed all covered with smuts?"
said the rat, chattering his teeth.
"Please, sir, the chimney wants
sweeping," said poor Tom Kitten.
"Anna Maria! Anna Maria!"
squeaked the rat. There was a
pattering noise and an old woman rat
poked her head round a rafter.
All in a minute she rushed upon
Tom Kitten, and before he knew what
was happening. . .
. . . his coat was pulled off, and he
was rolled up in a bundle, and tied
with string in very hard knots.
Anna Maria did the tying. The old
rat watched her and took snuff. When
she had finished, they both sat staring
at him with their mouths open.
"Anna Maria," said the old man rat
(whose name was Samuel Whiskers),
"Anna Maria, make me a kitten
dumpling roly-poly pudding for my
dinner."
"It requires dough and a pat of
butter and a rolling pin," said Anna
Maria, considering Tom Kitten with
her head on one side.
"No," said Samuel Whiskers, "make
it properly, Anna Maria, with
breadcrumbs."
"Nonsense! Butter and dough,"
replied Anna Maria.
The two rats consulted together for
a few minutes and then went away.
Samuel Whiskers got through a
hole in the wainscot and went boldly
down the front staircase to the dairy
to get the butter. He did not meet
anybody.
He made a second journey for the
rolling pin. He pushed it in front of
him with his paws, like a brewer's
man trundling a barrel.
He could hear Ribby and Tabitha
talking, but they were too busy
lighting the candle to look into the
chest.
They did not see him.
Anna Maria went down by way of
skirting board and a window shutter
to the kitchen to steal the dough.
She borrowed a small saucer and
scooped up the dough with her paws.
She did not observe Moppet.