The boy backed out from the underbrush, slightly curling his lip as he did so. “I do not admire the name of the animal,” he said coldly; “and why take all that trouble for a cat?”
The sergeant mopped his perspiring face with his handkerchief. “I will talk to you a little about the king,” he said, “and then perhaps you will see.”
The path upon which they had entered ran along by the low stone parapet of the Boylston-street bridge. The sergeant took his station against the parapet, while his listeners stood grouped about him in the mild sunshine.
“I believe,” said the sergeant, pointing up to the bright blue sky above them, “in an almighty Ruler of the universe that creates all things,—men and women and horses and dogs and cats.”
“And so do I,” murmured Bridget, crossing herself. “Praise be to his holy name.”
“And I believe,” continued the sergeant, “that this almighty Ruler does not despise anything that he has made—not even a cat.”
Eugene smiled a little ironically, but said nothing.
“Four years ago,” went on the sergeant, “I was on duty in this park early one fine summer morning. Down there near Commonwealth Avenue I saw a black-and-white cat coming leisurely toward me. Every few steps he took he would look over his shoulder in the direction of the houses, then he would walk toward the park again. I have always been fond of cats; so I said ‘Good-morning’ to him as polite as you please. ‘Meow,’ he said; and he looked pitifully up at me. ‘What’s the matter?’ I asked. ‘Are you going to the park to catch a mouse for yourself this fine morning?’ ‘Meow, meow,’ he said; and he meant, ‘No, no,’ just as plain as a creature could say it. Then he turned, and walked back in the direction he had come, looking over his shoulder, and begging me to follow as plain as possible. I thought I would go, for I knew something was wrong; and do you know that cat took me as straight as a child would have done down to a fine shut-up house. I suspected what was the matter; however, I rang the bell of the next house, and inquired.”
“They had gone away and left the cat, hadn’t they?” interjected Eugene’s nurse.
“Yes,” said the sergeant grimly. “That’s the figure of it. Mrs. Grandlady, whose name you might know if I mentioned it, had taken herself and her dear children and her dear horses to the country; but the dear cat was left to shift for himself. I was sorry for the creature. He went up on the front steps. He went up on the back ones. He listened, he pricked up his ears. He stared at me as if to say, ‘Do you really think they have left me?’ And when I left him he cried. For three weeks that cat hung about the house listening for some one to come back. I got the lady’s address, and wrote to her, but she didn’t answer; then I reasoned with the cat, and said, ‘You had better come up to the park.’ Finally he came. I never saw such a human-like creature. He’d never been ill-used, and he could not seem to understand that any one would hurt him. He has got over that now all right. Dogs chase him, and boys stone him, and he’s a different cat. He is shy of strangers, and I don’t think he would go back to his old mistress if she came for him.”