Then I sprang out, for I could hear Mary calling, “Pussy, Pussy, come to bed. Pussy, where are you?”
She was not worried about me, for she knew that Mona was watching, and she felt sure that I was somewhere in the house. Then she had had a little friend in to spend the afternoon and part of the evening with her, so she had not missed me.
Now the little girl had gone, and Mary was getting ready for bed. I lay down on my chair. I was so tired that I did not know what to do, but I must not forget the poor thing under the bed. Her appetite was not satisfied yet.
After a while Mary went to sleep, and I crept down-stairs. The rooms were all lighted, and the doors were open, so I had no trouble in getting to the pantry. Later on, lovely things to eat were going to be served. I stole a sandwich when no one was looking, and ran up-stairs with it.
“How are you?” I asked, after I had crept under the bed, and dropped it before the poor cat.
She did not reply till she had disposed of the sandwich, then she said sulkily, “It smarts me tongue—I want water.”
“Come to Mary's bath-room,” I said, “no one will see you.”
“I ain't afraid,” she said calmly. “There's no one goin' to bite here.”
“Now,” I said triumphantly, “aren't you glad you came?”
She gave me a queer look, and, without saying a word, lapped a little water, and went under the bed—and here I sit, dead tired, nearly asleep, but so happy that I don't know what to do. That poor dear, unmannerly thing is safe. Safe from dogs, and cats, and persecution, and hunger. No one will ever hurt her again. She will get sleek and fat in some good home. I hope she has no disease. Oh, dear! what a frightful thought—suppose I should bring anything dreadful home to my dear little mistress!