Where am I? Can I collect my thoughts and reflect a little—was there ever such an unhappy cat? Only last night I sat and purred myself to sleep beside my dear mother. Pressed close against her soft fur, I had no thought of harm, and now where am I? But I must not be silly. Let me close my eyes, and purr hard for a while, then sense will come to me.
I must not open them. When I look round this room, and see the shadowy form of cat after cat, I think I will go crazy—and yet what a simpleton I am. I am safe here. Danger is over; let me be thankful that I escaped as I did.
Well, to go back to this morning. The east wind was out of the air. When mother and I, and father, and Serena, and Jimmy Dory came yawning and stretching out of the sitting-room and looked down-stairs, the hall door was wide open, the sun was pouring in.
Mrs. Darley was so glad. She just loves sunshine. She went round the house opening doors and windows, and just as soon as breakfast was over, we all ran out on the sidewalk.
Cats get dreadfully tired of a back yard, and the back yards on Beacon Hill are so sunless and dull. We like fun and excitement—a little mild excitement—as much as human beings do. So my father and mother sat on the big sunny stone door-step, while Serena, Jimmy Dory and I played on the pavement.
We had a tiny round pebble that we were rolling with our paws. It was such a funny little pebble. I pushed it, and danced, and caught it in my paws and tossed it, and had a beautiful time, until my mother began to warn me.
“Black-Face, don't go down the hill; there are bad boys there. Keep up here.”
“I don't see any boys,” I said wilfully.
“They will soon see you if you go down there,” said my father severely.
I didn't believe him, and I thought my mother was fussy. I see now that little cats have to learn by experience. Nothing would have convinced me that there were bad boys at the foot of the hill, if I had not seen them and felt the grasp of their unkind hands.