Jane came upon Florimel, busy with Chum on the lawn.
“I don’t think either of them likes it, but it’s good for them, teaches them patience and makes them accomplished,” Florimel volunteered for Jane’s benefit as she came up.
“Them? Who besides Chum?” asked Jane, looking around.
“Oh, my! He must have run into the currant hedge!” cried Florimel. “I meant Lucky. I was teaching him to ride on Chum’s back. He sticks on pretty well, but he hates it. Sticks too well; his claws rather annoy Chum.”
“I don’t know why they wouldn’t!” Jane sympathized with Chum. “I see Lucky’s nose poking out under there, to see if it’s safe to come out. Do let him alone, Mel! You bothered Chum’s life out, and now the cat has no peace. Such a pretty cat as he’s turned out!”
“Didn’t we know he would?” triumphed Florimel. “Those black stripes on his silver colour are so stylish! If I do torment them, Chum and Lucky like me better than any one; don’t you, Chum pup?” Florimel hugged Chum breathless and the dog plainly was ecstatic over her condescension. “I’m teaching Lucky to come when I whistle, like a dog, only not the same call I use for Chum. Watch!” Florimel whistled two notes, repeated like a bird call, and Lucky, whose added flesh and beauty proved his name suitable, came pleasantly to her, not with any of Chum’s joy at being noticed, but with a slow, condescending courtesy. “He’s the Prince and the Pauper, all in one, like Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,” cried Florimel, snatching Lucky to her breast and eagerly scratching his chin to win a purr. “He was the pauper, and now he’s the prince, and you’d think he had been the President and his cabinet, and lived on the best the White House could give him all his life! He likes me lots, but he knows I’m just as lucky as he is to be allowed to save him. I don’t care! I like to be snubbed—by a cat! See this act.”
Florimel set Lucky on Chum’s back, ordered Chum to “Get up!” and for a glorious six or seven feet of distance Chum served Lucky as his steed, to the disgust of both. Then the cat growled and sprang off, this time galloping to the house with tail a-hoop, resolved not to be cajoled by a whistle again to do what he despised, and Chum wagged her whole body apologetically, reminding Florimel that, though she objected to circus performances, it was the cat who had broken bounds.
“Mel, little madrina longs for a chauffeur,” said Jane. “She says no matter how well you and I could drive, she’d never ride with either of us, and Win can’t give up the law altogether. Where shall we get a man?”
“I think we’re both learning beautifully, Janie!” said Florimel, in an injured tone. “I haven’t done a thing wrong since the day I went into the garage without putting down the brake—and the brake was spelled another way, by the wind-shield and the wall! You’ve got to do something like that to start with; they all do! You haven’t done anything yet, but you may; you drive better than I do, though. You don’t seem a bit red-haired when you drive, Jane, honest! You’re just as quiet and clear-headed, you’re not afraid, and you’re not reckless—not smarty-cat! I think you drive plenty well enough for madrina to trust you, if you take a little longer training.”
“Much obliged, Mel, for your compliments,” said Jane. “It’s nice of you to say all that, when you want to drive so badly. I think, myself, I’d be safe driving here in Vineclad, but if madrina’s nervous, she’s nervous, and that’s all there is to be said about it. It seems to me madrina’s painfully quiet lately; I’m afraid she’s getting tired of it—tireder! It must take a while to realize one’s voice is gone, and the further you get into realizing it, the worse it is, of course. We thought—Mary and I—that we ought to find a man to-day, but ‘that’s all the further we got,’ as Abbie says.”