"Sail on! sail on! and on!"
And silence descended upon the cottage that bright Saturday morning, for Aunt Maria was too much absorbed in some very important sewing to pay any attention to the housework and cooking still waiting to be done. In the midst of her thoughts as she sat puzzling over a fashion book, came the sound of an incessant buzzing or hissing, so unlike any noise she had ever heard that she paused in surprise to listen.
"Now, what in creation has that child done this time?" she exclaimed after a moment. "It doesn't sound like the teakettle or as if she had left the water running. What can it be? I have to follow her around like I would a baby—she is that careless!"
With an impatient sigh the woman dropped her work in the nearest chair and shuffled out to the kitchen to investigate the peculiar sound, formulating in her mind a lecture to be delivered to the erring Tabitha upon her return from McKittrick's.
But the lecture was straightway forgotten in the sight that met her gaze as she stepped into the room; and she stopped, paralyzed with horror. In the middle of the floor, coiled as if ready to strike, lay a long, hideous snake, its head raised, forked tongue darting, and hissing that ceaseless buzzing note that had attracted her attention in the first place; while around and around the reptile circling nearer and ever nearer, walked the hermit's crooked-tailed, cropped-eared cat, its back arched, tail erect, fur standing stiff all over its body, and round yellow eyes glued in fascination to the enemy luring her to death. Not a sound did the poor cat make, but continued her march with a spasmodic rhythm that would have seemed ludicrous had it not been so pathetically fearful. Even Aunt Maria's arrival upon the scene did not break the charm, and the horrified woman stood still in the doorway too frightened to move, too terrified to call, too shocked to think. It was almost as if the snake had cast its horrible spell over her, also.
"Hurrah! the foes are moving. Hark to the mingled din
Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and roaring culverin."
The sound of Tabitha's hurrying steps outside, and the fresh young voice thrilling over those familiar words brought the woman to her senses, and with a cry of desperation, Aunt Maria caught up the heavy ironing board in the corner and banged it with all her strength full upon the hissing coil on the floor, regardless of the fate of the cat. But the hysterical scream of the woman had broken the charm, and the frightened feline made a frantic dash for the screen door, spitting and clawing in its frenzy to escape; while Aunt Maria, trembling and unnerved, sank into a sobbing heap on the floor, too much shaken to think of escape.
Such was the scene that confronted Tabitha, as she rushed up to the door, terrified by her aunt's cry and the wild scratching of the imprisoned cat. As she flung open the screen there was a flash of black, a quavering meow and pussy, crazed by her terrible experience, streaked out of sight up the mountainside. But Tabitha did not pause to watch her flight, so amazed was she at the sight of Aunt Maria in tears huddled in the corner and shaking as if with ague.
"Why, Aunt Maria, what is the matter?" she cried in scared tones, pausing just inside the door. "Are you hurt? Did the cat go mad? Were you ironing and the board tipped over?" She stooped to lift the heavy piece off the floor, and the woman suddenly found her tongue: "Don't touch it, don't touch it! There's a snake under it! Oh, oh, oh!"
"Are you bitten, Aunt Maria? Tell me, are you bitten?"