"She is a beast. Dear old Pipkin is better off away from her; but I do miss her and will never forgive that woman. My mother would kiss me, and then Pipkin and the kitty would lie beside me for company; and after my mother died that cat was all the comfort I had. The servants loved her. Not one of them would have killed her, but this woman has servants who will do her dirty work.
"She has red cheeks and a white skin, and a big mouthful of teeth that she is showing all the time, just like old Towzer, the bulldog."
"Why does she hate you?" Hope asked. "Can't you make her like you?"
"What a little goose you are! Like me? Not she. She wants me to die, to get my money that my mother left me. She told my father he ought to take board for me, for I had more money than they had. 'What,' he said, 'take board for my own son?' This did touch poor dad; but she soft-sawdered him. And then I wanted to run away, and I will some day, and join Uncle Jack, for whom I am named. He is in India. He loved my mother, his sister, and he would care for me. But you see I do love dad; and now I could not leave you."
Hope smiled such a sweet look upon him, saying, "You are a dear good boy, and my Aunt Martha will be a mother to you just as she has been to me."
And in truth this childish friendship had worked wonders in Hope. She was able to walk about the garden with her crutches and his help, for he was very careful of her, and proud to be of use in amusing her. Aunt Martha took the bright, honest boy into her heart, and he loved her dearly.
One day when Jack came over the hedge he found Hope in great excitement. Her apron covered some mystery that was very soon revealed—a coal-black cat, perfect in every way, a real witch cat, with not one mark about her from the tip of her ear to the end of her tail. Yellow eyes of the most unfathomable depth and a spasmodic wag of the tail proved her temper to be of the peppery kind.
"Where did you get her?" asked Jack.
"She came to us. When Aunt Martha opened the door this morning to take in the paper, she walked in. She came into the dining room, and when I called her, she jumped up in my lap and drank milk from a saucer. She bites and claws the rest if they touch her, but licks my hands and purrs when I talk to her. Where she came from I do not know, but I love her already almost" (with a remorseful look at Joanna) "as well as I do my dear dolly."
"I should think so," replied Jack. "I can't see how you can care so much for that old doll."