Soon we found ourselves on the sidewalk. Serena led the way. “Oh! isn't this glorious,” she said, sniffing the fresh air. “How delightful is liberty! This is what I have been pining for in that dull house of ours. I have been longing for freedom, for an opportunity to preach the gospel of culture. How I shall astonish those Maine cats!”
I was so puzzled that I did not know what to do. What would the Denvilles think of me? I was a regular cat agent.
“Don't go in the front door,” commanded Serena when we got to the house. By the way, we had several frights going down—two dogs chased us, but as it was the middle of the afternoon, the streets were full of well-dressed people, and Serena and I were sharp enough to keep near them, and they soon drove the dogs away.
“Why don't you want to go in the front door?” I asked.
“Because I want to see the dogs. Haven't I had my curiosity excited on their subject?”
Stupidly forgetting that Mona and Dolly would be out for their daily walk with Mr. Denville, I conducted her to the kennels. Of course, they were vacant, so I led her in the house, through the wash-room, kitchen and store-rooms.
The cook met us in the lower hall. “Oh, what a beauty cat!” she exclaimed when she saw Serena. “I say, Rosy and Bridget, come here.”
Serena, in great gratification, purred round the three women, and held aloft her handsome tail.
“She beats the little fellow hollow,” said the cook, staring at me; “yet there is a look of the beauty in the fright. Where do she come from, I wonder.”
Rosy, the house-maid, was laughing. “She beats the Dutch—that little chappie Black-Face does. She is always bringin' cats home.”