I was in a whirl of confused emotions. My dear mistress was going to leave me, and I was helpless. I was not strong enough to make her take me with her. I should never again see my dear father and mother and brother and sister. It seemed to me that my heart was breaking.
“Cheer up, Black-Face,” whispered Mrs. Darley, for I had climbed on her shoulder, and had my head close against her face. “Cheer up. Partings are hard to bear, both for cats and human beings, but they are sometimes for our good. You will have a lovely home with that dear child—Good-bye.”
She hugged me to her for a minute, then she resolutely put me down, and though I ran and cried after her, Mary and her mother held me back. Mrs. Darley went out of the room without me, and with that horrible Jane.
I was almost a crazy little cat, and Mary's eyes filled with tears as she listened to my cries.
“Perhaps, mamma,” she said, “we ought not to keep her.”
“She will get over her trouble,” her mother replied; “try her for a few days.”
They asked for another basket, and Mercy brought one, and I was put in it and carried out-of-doors.
Mrs. Denville's carriage was waiting for them, and we got in and were driven to their home—and let me think again how surprised I was when I found where their home is—scarcely a stone's throw from Mrs. Darley's. Mrs. Darley is on Mount Vernon Street, the Denvilles are on Beacon Street.
I know the whole neighborhood, and as soon as we arrived in the Denvilles' house, and little Mary took me up to her room and let me look out the window I was overcome with joy. Why, I could run home any day, and I began to be comforted.
“Now, Pussy,” said Mary taking me on her lap, and sitting down by the window, “I want to talk to you. I am going to tell you all about myself, and I want you to listen attentively. My name is Mary Denville, and I am not a very strong little girl. I have a very weak back.”