“Well, let her swish,” answered the old rat; “she’ll find there are some people in the world as smart as she is.”
The old rat, Graywhisker, seated himself, and the other rats came flocking out of their holes and placed themselves in a circle about him. Some of them brought their young families, as they couldn’t trust them alone.
“I don’t see any of our friends the mice,” said Graywhisker, looking about with his sharp old eyes. “Some of you young fellows run over to Mrs. Silverskin, and tell her I want to see her at once; and be quick about it too.”
Two young rats started off, and began to climb to the hay-mow, playing tag on the way.
“Here, none of your fooling!” called out the old rat sharply, as one of them gave a loud squeak.
This squeak awoke Major from his nap, and hearing voices his curiosity was aroused. “I guess I’ll keep my ears open, and perhaps I shall hear something,” he said to himself; “you can’t trust these rats out of your sight.”
So Major made believe asleep, and even gave a snore occasionally to mislead the rats; and he did completely mystify them.
Soon the two young rats returned, scampering headlong down from the mow, and followed more leisurely by Mrs. Silverskin, who had a very timid, gentle air, and who looked very small and refined by the side of the great clumsy rats with their bold countenances.
“Now sit still and listen with all your ears,” began old Graywhisker, “for I’ve something of importance to say, and our time is short, as that arch fiend, the barn-cat, may return at any moment. To cut a long matter short, the barn-cat has introduced another cat here. To be sure, she’s half blind, and a half-grown kitten, but still she’s to be dreaded. Then there’s been a sparrow loafing around here lately, and they’re laying a plot this very minute to get a good-for-nothing girl here, but we’ll put a stop to that. I hid under the piazza yesterday and heard the whole story,—how this girl had fed the lazy sparrow and the half-blind kitten (it’s good enough for her, and I wish she was blind of both eyes), and how they must think of some way to get this poor child among these good people. They’re talking it over now, and I’ve set Sharpears to watch and tell me what they’ve said. The barn-cat said that if they could arrange matters so that Posy could hear her story, she would bring it all about. Posy, indeed! I hate that child! She makes a dreadful fuss over all the other animals, but I heard her say the other day to the barn-cat, ‘You mustn’t catch the pretty little birdies, kitty, but you can catch just as many of the great ugly rats as you’ve a mind to.’ I paid her off, though; I stole her piece of cake that she laid down on the door-step when she went into the house, and she felt awfully about it. It was real fun to see how disappointed she was when she came back and found it gone.”
Here Mrs. Silverskin, who had sat meekly listening, spoke in a soft little voice,—