Daisy: the autobiography of a cat

by Miranda Eliot Swan

"Oh, don't, Jack! She is a dear, lovely, good old girlie" (with a hug and a kiss on Joanna's old battered face).

This Jett resented. Flying at Joanna, she stuck her sharp claws in her blond hair, dragging out a big tuft of it.

Jack shouted, "Go it! go ahead! tear her old wig off!"

Hope relieved and comforted her dear dolly, pushing the black termagant from her lap, and saying to Jack: "You are a cruel boy. I will have nothing to do with you."

This Jack could not bear, for he was a tender-hearted little fellow.

"Oh, come now," he said, "don't be so hard on a fellow. I never knew anything about dolls. I daresay Joanna is very nice. See here, perhaps I can mend her head." And he did very skilfully, and thus restored peace.

Then came the question of naming the cat.

"How would Nig do?" said Hope.

"Oh, don't! She had a dog called Nig, and it died. I was glad of it."

"Oh, no; if she had anything named Nig I will not have Kitty called so." Hope was firm in her belief in Jack's wrongs, and disliked his step-mother with all her heart. "We must call her something of that kind, for she is jet-black."