I was sorry for Slyboots. I knew she was suffering, and I was pleased when Anthony tied me, so I could sit beside her box.
Pretty soon we started, and glad I was to get out of the dreadful noise and confusion of that building. Bells were ringing, smoke was puffing, men, women and children were still hurrying, and the air was full of distraction for cats.
The gliding motion was rather pleasant, until we began to go bumpety bump, and rattle rattle. I did not like that; however, I saw that there was no danger. Anthony did not look frightened, nor did the man with the funny cap on, so I plucked up courage and whispered to Slyboots:
“It is all right—you are quite safe, and we are on our way to lovely Maine.”
“SHE SLIPPED BETWEEN THE BIG DOG'S FRONT PAWS, AND SAT THERE COWERING AND TREMBLING.”
She never stirred, and I turned to Anthony. He had dragged a stool right in the midst of us, and sat there quietly looking at us from time to time. He was a kind-hearted young fellow, and if he had not been he would not have dared to neglect us, for I had heard the Denvilles talk of having discharged servant after servant for being unkind to animals.
Anthony did not love us as the Denvilles did. He rather made fun of us, but still he was kind to us, and that was good in him.
We soon rushed along at a fearful rate. I never dreamed that Boston was so large. I thought Beacon Hill was the most of it.
“Why, Mona,” I mewed at the top of my voice to make her hear, “where did all the houses come from?”