Miss Ayr of Virginia, & other stories

by Julia Magruder

As Randall looked down on her through the budding green of the trees, she seemed of a piece with them, as if she might be the bloom that was the consummation of all their verdant leafage. Instinctively, he stepped back behind the curtains, and concealing himself, carefully watched the scene that followed. The black kitten, evidently used to games of romps with its mistress, had scudded wildly down the steps and scrambled up into the veranda of the next house, where it sat complacently on the railing, to see what was to follow. The girl, with a look that was a compound of desperation and amusement, sat down on the steps, with the evident intention of coaxing the kitten to come to her.

“Minnie, Minnie, Minnie!” she said enticingly, holding out a lovely hand and making little curling gestures with the delicate fingers. At the sound of her voice, raised a little high, so as to reach the kitten, Randall started and caught his breath. It was musical, clear, refined, harmonious, the very complement of her face and figure! He had heard of such things, where some serious illness or injury had ruined a voice for singing, but left its speaking quality untouched! Oh, why should she ever sing, he thought! And why should he ever have had the misfortune to hear her? All the time that he was thinking these thoughts, that vision of youthful loveliness was there before his eyes.

Her figure was charming, as she sat on the doorstep and continued to coax the kitten, in that beautiful voice of appeal; but it was more than charming, it was adorable, as she rose to her feet and, with stealthy motions of consummate grace, began to creep toward the kitten, which sat, with a wary pretense of unconsciousness, perched upon the railing. At last, when she was very near, and the kitten as still as a statue, she darted forward and had almost seized it, when with the agility of a squirrel, the little black creature, with one mad rush, sprang to the pavement, flew across the street, and scrambling up the rough trunk of an old wistaria vine, in a flutter of fun and excitement darted through the open window, and jumped into Randall’s room.

In an instant he captured it, and running down stairs and out of the front door bareheaded, he swiftly crossed the muddy street to the detriment of his patent leather boots, and gave the kitten into the hands of its young mistress, who stood spellbound on the pavement, in startled wonderment at this sudden prank of her pet.

It was a quiet street, and there was no one in sight except, at a little distance, the servants, who were so busy with their swishing and sweeping that apparently they had not observed the little scene.

Randall, as he stood there, in the sweet spring sunshine, face to face with this creature of his dreams and thoughts, took in every detail of her blooming loveliness, more rich than ever now, by reason of a brilliant blush which had come into her face. As she received the kitten from his hands she said a demure, “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” he answered, “for the opportunity of seeing such a feat. You could match your kitten with a squirrel, any day, and I’m afraid your chance of holding on to it, in a city, is very small.”

“O, I never let him get out!” she said with sudden anxiety. “He fooled me this time, but he shall not do it again,” and as she spoke she gave the offender a sharp little slap, which so excited it, that with a sudden wrench it sprang from her arms and bounded away, she and Randall following in mad pursuit. Randall had once done notable running in a football team at college, and in the frantic spurt with which he darted after the kitten, his old training told, and he quickly overtook and captured it. When he turned and faced the kitten’s mistress, both of them were flushed and laughing, and rather breathless.

“Oh, how kind you are! Oh, you little brute!” the girl exclaimed, addressing the man and the kitten in one breath. As she held out her hands to take the struggling creature from him, he drew it back.

“No, I will take him as far as the door for you,” he said. “He’s not in the least to be trusted, and would be off and away now, if he could. Poor little beast! I fancy it’s hard to be shut up in a close house all the time, and the chance of escape was too much.”