At last, that ball was reduced to such a sharp skeleton of its former self that fearing they would choke over it, she took it away and gave them some fresh candy. But she said: "One day, they had a gumdrop, and Friskey could not get it off his teeth, they were buried so deep in it; but Flossy licked and clawed till she got it off. That beat all the other pranks."
Now, how long would two children have kept that ball of candy? I would like to ask. If their teeth had not demolished it the first hour, the family hatchet would have been used, and a free fight have followed, over the fragments.
Friskey would lie down, and his master would put Flossy in his arms just like a child. They were very devoted to each other, though Friskey did not like other cats, and was very jealous of Flossy. He seemed to wish her to have no friend but himself. As she was a social little creature, and a "cat flirt," he had many heart-burnings.
Friskey came to a sad end. He was run over by a fast team and had to be chloroformed. Flossy was very unhappy about him. They said she acted just like a widow, and, probably, like most widows, got another admirer in his place. He was buried down in the garden quite a little distance from the house, and Flossy was often seen sitting on his grave.
The family thought it very pathetic, but there were others, people who like to destroy our best illusions (whom no one likes or cares for their opinions), who suggested an explanation of the interesting fact, by saying that a catmint bed was on each side of Friskey's grave, and Flossy went there for the catmint.
I do, for my part, hate to be disenchanted when I have indulged in a little bit of sentiment. I do not believe any one ever thanks the person who turns the poetry of life into prose.
My solution of the story is, that Flossy had often played with Friskey in that very catmint bed, and she went there to recall pleasant memories. I have a right to my own opinion, and I know I am very strange; but then, it would be a very stupid world if there were no variety.
I had a singular thought the other day, and it will do no harm to tell it, though I do not care one pin whether others agree with me or not. I think my mistress is original, and I know I am like her. My idea is this: I have heard the stories of Adam and Eve and Noah's Ark—indeed, I was brought up on Bible stories.
Now my thought is this: When Adam and Eve left the garden of Eden, there were two of their dumb companions whose hearts were sad for their master and mistress. They said, "We will not let them go alone." And when Adam and Eve left the garden, a dog walked by his master's side, and a cat by the side of the mistress—faithful in their misfortune.