CLYTIE, THE CAT WITH MITTENS
CLYTIE was a cat who might certainly be called young for her age. She had frisked through a thoughtless kitten-hood with Ivanhoe, and now spent many hours in playing with Neddy, the white rat, for whom she had conceived an early passion. Neddy’s real name was Editor, because he sat up nights; and he differed from other rats in having a sense of humor. Clytie did not know this however; she only thought it must be fine to have pink eyes, and a tail that never swelled, no matter how embarrassed one might be.
Seated on the top of Neddy’s house, she would draw her claws across the wire netting, and Neddy would shoot out of his inner oatmeal box, as if cheese itself had called. Up and down he would chase the wandering paw, until it vanished above his head, and then there would be the large excitement of waiting for it to come again. There was a knot-hole in the top of the box, and one day Clytie’s tail slipped down through it. Shortly afterwards the family was summoned by howls of terror, to find Neddy swinging merrily back and forth on his furry chandelier, evidently not connecting it at all in his mind with the owner of the paw.
Clytie gave up playing with Neddy after this, and devoted herself to the general good. Every night Mrs. Wood made a tour of all the bedrooms with a folded newspaper, killing mosquitoes and flies, and after watching her several times Clytie suddenly decided what double toes were meant for. Bang! would go the newspaper on the wall, and, thud! would go the mittened paws beneath it. One fly for the newspaper, and yes—two for the mittened paws! Clytie did not stop to eat the flies, but swept them into a little heap to serve as a quick lunch later on. Ceiling flies had to be brushed off, of course, but even the most high-roosting flies adorned the heap before the swift paws ceased their work. Clytie had at last become a useful member of the family, and Franklin said that it was because her experience with Neddy had aged her.
When Eunice and Kenneth came back from the farm, they found Weejums and Clytie in full possession of the house,—Weejums with a new family of two, and Clytie with a new air of dignity and cathood. She was a very handsome pussy, yellow and white, with lovely brown eyes and a great deal of fur in her tail. Several people had wanted to buy her; but Eunice always answered: “No, she is Weejums’ eldest child, and not for sale.”
About a month after Weejums’ kittens came, Clytie had some of her own in the barn, and came in to tell the family about it. Eunice met her first, and knew that the proud quiver of her tail could mean but one thing.
“Biddy,” she said, “I know they’re there!”
“Well, whin it sthops rainin’ we’ll go out and see,” Biddy replied.
Eunice hovered about the house in a great state of excitement, making guesses as to the number of kittens, and what color they might be. Only two would be kept, she knew; but suppose that there should be one tortoise-shell, and one maltese, and one pure white!—which would she be able to spare?