The dear child came running in.
“Just look at that cat,” said the old woman.
“Oh! oh!” cried my dear young mistress. “Why, her eyes are scratched, and her nose is torn—oh! my poor pussy,” and she went down on her knees and began to dab at that Common cat's face with her handkerchief.
“Nurse, please get me a wet towel—oh! the poor cat. Who could have scratched her so?”
“Depend upon it, it's that kitten,” said the old woman, “she's a high-strung little article.”
“My dear Black-Face!” exclaimed Mary. “Oh! no, she is gentle.”
“Who could have done it?” the nurse said grimly, “I didn't.”
“Perhaps some bad cat ran in,” said Mary.
The nurse shook her head, and then I stopped watching them. I was more dead than alive, and I never stirred, though I heard Mary calling me everywhere. She did not think of looking under her own bed, though I think she looked under all the other beds in the house.
Finally, her mamma made her go off to drive, and everything was quiet in the room. The bed had been made, so no one came near to disturb us, and I lay on the carpet and tried to recover myself, and the Common cat lay on the chair, and spat at me if I stirred.