“Marthy and Mary is waitin’ to get acquainted with you,” uncle says. “They’re peculiar, Marthy and Mary is—most exceedin’ly peculiar—so you want to be p’tic’lar how you act. I wouldn’t have Marthy and Mary get a bad idea of your mannerses for anythin’.”
He shut the door tight and then went to the window.
“Marthy!” says he, as loud as he could yell. “Mary! Comp’ny to the house. Hey, Marthy! Hey, Mary!”
Well, sir, we didn’t know what to expect, but in a minnit two pure-white cats came hustling out from among the underbrush with their tails sticking straight up in the air and the most interested expression on their faces you ever saw.
“Come here to the winder,” says uncle to me. He put his head out and spoke to the cats. “Marthy and Mary,” says he, “this here young person is my nephew, Binney Jenks. Git the name—Binney Jenks.”
The cats both says “Miau,” and reared up on their hind legs with their fore paws against the house.
Uncle Hieronymous sort of drew back. “Don’t come a-jumpin’ up here,” he says. “I won’t have it. You know better’n that, both of you. This here is Mark Tidd,” he went on, “and this is Tallow Martin, and this is Plunk Smalley.”
It didn’t seem to me the cats was much interested in us, but uncle seemed to think they were all excited over our being there.
“Ree-markable cats,” says he. “Intelligent! Oh, my, hain’t they intelligent! Why, boys, the amount of brains them cats has got would s’prise the legislature down to Lansing.”
He went to the stove and got some fish out of the frying-pan. “Marthy and Mary,” he says, important and dignified-like, “I’m a-goin’ to celebrate this here occasion by feedin’ you troutses. Troutses hain’t made for cats, except by way of markin’ important happenin’s. Chubs and perches is for cats, with maybe a bass or a pickerel, but troutses is for men almost exclusive. Here’s one for you, Marthy, and here’s one for you, Mary—and bear in mind, both of you, that you’re much obleeged to these here boys. Lemme hear you say much obliged.”