The windfairies, and other tales

by Mary De Morgan

THE STORY OF A CAT

Once there lived an old gentleman who was a very rich old gentleman, and able to buy nearly everything he wanted. He had earned all his wealth for himself by trading in a big city, and now he had grown so fond of money that he loved it better than anything else in the world, and thought of nothing except how he could save it up and make more. But he never seemed to have time to enjoy himself with all that he had earned, and he was very angry if he was asked to give money to others. He lived in a handsome house all alone, and he had a very good cook who cooked him a sumptuous dinner every day, but he rarely asked any one to share it with him, though he loved eating and drinking, and always had the best of wine and food. His cook and his other servants knew that he was greedy and hard, and cared for nobody, and though they served him well because he paid them, they none of them loved him.

It was one Christmas, and the snow lay thick upon the ground, and the wind howled so fiercely that the old gentleman was very glad he was not obliged to go out into the street, but could sit in his comfortable arm-chair by the fire and keep warm.

“It really is terrible weather,” he said to himself, “terrible weather;” and he went to the window and looked out into the street, where all the pavements were inches deep in snow. “I am very glad that I need not go out at all, but can sit here and keep warm for to-day, that is the great thing, and I shall have some ado to keep out the cold even here with the fire.”

He was leaving the window, when there came up in the street outside an old man, whose clothes hung in rags about him, and who looked half frozen. He was about the same age as the old gentleman inside the window, and the same height, and had grey, curly hair, like his, and if they had been dressed alike any one would have taken them for two brothers.

“Oh, really,” said the old gentleman irritably, “this is most annoying. The parish ought to take up these sort of people, and prevent their wandering about the streets and molesting honest folk,” for the poor old man had taken off his hat, and began to beg.

“It is Christmas Day,” he said, and though he did not speak very loud, the old gentleman could hear every word he said quite plainly through the window. “It is Christmas Day, and you will have your dinner here in your warm room. Of your charity give me a silver shilling that I may go into an eating-shop, and have a dinner too.”

“A silver shilling!” cried the old gentleman, “I never heard of such a thing! Monstrous! Go away, I never give to beggars, and you must have done something very wicked to become so poor.”

But still the old man stood there, though the snow was falling on his shoulders, and on his bare head. “Then give me a copper,” he said; “just one penny, that to-day I may not starve.”