“Huh! That cat thought she was smart, driving me away because I was barking at a doll! I wouldn’t hurt it!”
As Blackie stood on the stoop, looking at the doll, the door opened and a little girl came out.
“Oh, you nice, big, black cat!” exclaimed the little girl. “Did you come up on the stoop to look at my dollie?”
Of course Blackie could not tell why she had come up on the stoop, for the cat could not speak girl-language. But Blackie mewed, and rubbed up against the little girl’s legs, purring, for the little girl was almost like Mabel, and quite as nice.
“Oh, I just love you, Pussy,” said the little girl. “I’m going to get you a saucer of milk.” And she did, still leaving her doll on the stoop. But the doll did not seem to mind.
“There you are, nice, black cat,” the little girl said, as she came out with the milk. “I guess you are thirsty.”
And Blackie was. She drank up all the milk, and wished there was more. She felt much better after that. The little girl watched the cat drinking the milk and said:
“I’m going in and ask my mother if I can keep you for my own, black pussy. You’re alive, and I like you better than my doll, though she is nice too.”
Into the house hurried the little girl, leaving her doll on the stoop with Blackie. But the black cat, though she liked the little girl, did not want to stay and live in that house.
“I want to go on to my own home,” thought Blackie. “I want Mabel and Arthur. Besides, if I lived here that dog and I would be always having trouble, I’m afraid. He is not like Don. I’m going to travel on.”