Mary's eyes danced with joy, but horror entered into my soul.
“You see,” said Mrs. Darley, caressing my ears as she spoke, “I have so many cats. I can easily spare one, but I am rather particular about my pussies. I only give them to persons who will love them and treat them sensibly. Now, I have heard of you and your love for animals, and I am sure a cat would do well in your hands, so I will give you my young Black-Face, if you like.”
Little Mary came slowly up to Mrs. Darley, and laid a hand on her arm. “If you give me that kitty,” she said solemnly, “and I don't take good care of it, I hope the Lord will punish me.”
Mrs. Darley smiled. “I don't think that there is any danger of your ill-treating an animal. Well, now I must go. I am glad that my wandering kitten was brought here. What a blessed thing it is, that there is this refuge for lost animals.”
“And are you not going to take away a cat?” asked Mary gently.
“I don't think so,” replied Mrs. Darley. “I have four at home. I suppose, though, I could take one, for five is my limit. I never keep more than that. Mercy,” she said to the woman who had just come into the room, “have you any hopeless cases?”
“Yes, ma'am,” said the woman, “there's that Jane,” and she pointed to a gray cat in the corner. “She's got to be killed with the old cats, I think. She's ugly looking, and she's lame, and she won't take any trouble to make herself agreeable to strangers, and she gives the young kittens a dreadful time of it. She don't enjoy life herself, and she won't let any one else enjoy it.”
“Jane,” said Mrs. Darley, “come here.”
Jane would not come.
“Poor Jane,” said Mrs. Darley. “I wonder if I could soften that unhappy face. Mercy, I'll try her. Just put her in a basket, and I will take her home—now good-bye, Black-Face.”