“The haying was beautiful,” I murmured. “I wish the sweet smelling days could come again.”
“A pity Thummie has hay-fever,” said Aunt Tabby. “He is glad when the haying is over. It was pitiful to hear him sneezing when the men were unloading the hay-carts.”
“I admire Thummie,” I said warmly. “He is a brave cat not to desert his post when it becomes unpleasant.”
“He's all right in winter,” said Aunt Tabby. “He is out a great deal, and then when he is cold he sits on a cow's back.”
“Bessie is his friend, isn't she?” I said.
“Yes, the Jersey. She loves Thummie.”
“Here comes Joker,” I said, as he walked down from the barn and sat beside us.
I said nothing aloud, but I thought to myself how much Joker has improved since we came to the farm. Aunt Tabby says it is because he has been much with Serena and me, and less with the untrained Blizzard and the slippery Rosy.
I think he is better because Slyboots gave him such a beating for taunting poor Serena, however, I don't like to say this to Aunt Tabby. These country cats all stand by each other.
“I've got some news for you,” said Joker to me. “I'm afraid you're soon going away.”