Toto's Merry Winter

by Laura Elizabeth Howe Richards

CHAPTER IX.

IT was late in the afternoon of the same day. In the cottage at home all was quiet and peaceful. The grandmother was taking a nap in her room, with the squirrel curled up comfortably on the pillow beside her. In the kitchen, the fire and the kettle were having it all their own way, for though two other members of the family were in the room, they were either asleep or absorbed in their own thoughts, for they gave no sign of their presence. The kettle was in its glory, for Bruin had polished it that very morning, and it shone like the good red gold. It sang its merriest song, and puffed out clouds of snow-white steam from its slender spout.

"Look at me!" it said to the fire. "Am I not well worth looking at? I feel almost sure that I must have turned into gold, for I never used to look like this. A golden kettle is rather a rare thing, I flatter myself. It really seems a pity that there is no one here except the stupid parrot, who has gone to sleep, and that odious raccoon, who always looks at me as if I were a black pot, and a cracked pot at that."

"To be sure!" crackled the fire, encouragingly. "To be sure! But never mind, my dear! I admire you immensely, as you know, and it is my greatest pleasure to see myself reflected in your bright face. Crick! crack! cr-r-r-r-rickety!" said the fire.

"Hm! hm! tsing! tsing! tsing!" sang the kettle. And they performed really a very creditable duet together.

Now it happened that the parrot was not asleep, though she had had the bad taste to turn her back on the fire and the kettle. She was looking out of the window, in fact, and wondering when the wood-pigeon would come back. Though not a bird of specially affectionate nature, Miss Mary was still very fond of Pigeon Pretty, and always missed her when she was away. This afternoon had seemed particularly long, for no one had been in the kitchen save Coon, with whom she was not on very good terms. Now, she thought, it was surely time for her friend to return; and she stretched her neck, and peered out of the window, hoping to catch the flutter of the soft brown wings. Instead of this, however, she caught sight of something else, which made her start and ruffle up her feathers, and look again with a very different expression.

Outside the cottage stood a man,—an ill-looking fellow, with a heavy pack strapped on his back. He was looking all about him, examining the outside of the cottage carefully, and evidently listening for any sound that might come from within. All being silent, he stepped to the window (not Miss Mary's window, but the other), and took a long survey of the kitchen; and then, seeing no living creature in it (for the raccoon under the table and the parrot on her perch were both hidden from his view), he laid down his pack, opened the door, and quietly stepped in. An ill-looking fellow, Miss Mary had thought him at the first glance; but now, as she noiselessly turned on her perch and looked more closely at him, she thought his aspect positively villanous. He had a hooked nose and a straggling red beard, and his little green eyes twinkled with an evil light as he looked about the cosey kitchen, with all its neat and comfortable appointments.

First he stepped to the cupboard, and after examining its contents he drew out a mutton-bone (which had been put away for Bruin), a hunch of bread, and a cranberry tart, on which he proceeded to make a hearty meal, without troubling himself about knife or fork. He ate hurriedly, looking about him the while,—though, curiously enough, he saw neither of the two pairs of bright eyes which were following his every movement. The parrot on her perch sat motionless, not a feather stirring; the raccoon under the table lay crouched against the wall, as still as if he were carved in stone. Even the kettle had stopped singing, and only sent out a low, perturbed murmur from time to time.

His meal finished, the rascal—his confidence increasing as the moments went by without interruption—proceeded to warm himself well by the fire, and then on tiptoe to walk about the room, peering into cupboards and lockers, opening boxes and pulling out drawers. The parrot's blood boiled with indignation at the sight of this "unfeathered vulture," as she mentally termed him, ransacking all the Madam's tidy and well-kept stores; but when he opened the drawer in which lay the six silver teaspoons (the pride of the cottage), and the porringer that Toto had inherited from his great-grandfather,—when he opened this drawer, and with a low whistle of satisfaction drew the precious treasures from their resting-place, Miss Mary could contain herself no longer, but clapped her wings and cried in a clear distinct voice, "Stop thief!"