“Just a minute now, Blackie,” said Mrs. Thompson. “Then I’ll give you something to eat. I know you’re hungry.”
Blackie was mewing her hungry cry, and the lady knew enough about cats to know it.
“I’ll give you some nice milk, and a bit of meat in a minute,” the lady went on. “Just wait until I close Mr. Smith’s scuttle.”
She climbed out on the roof to do this, and Blackie rubbed against her skirts and purred. Blackie had found a new friend.
“Go on down my stairs now,” said Mrs. Thompson as she walked back to the hole in her roof, followed by Blackie. “Go on down and then I’ll close my scuttle, and get your supper and my own too.”
Blackie knew enough to run down. She waited at the foot of the stairs while Mrs. Thompson fastened her scuttle with hooks, and then Blackie waited for the lady to go ahead and show the way.
Blackie found herself in a house just like the empty one she had first entered, but some one lived here, for there was furniture in all the rooms, and carpets on the floors. In the other house the floors were of bare boards.
“Come on down to the kitchen,” invited Mrs. Thompson. “I’ll feed you there.”
Blackie understood this talk, and how she did hurry to that kitchen, for she was very hungry! The lady poured out a saucer of nice milk, and you can just imagine how fast Blackie put her red tongue in it to lap it up, for she was thirsty as well as hungry, and milk to a cat is both food and drink.