VII
HOW THE BILLY GOAT LOST HIS TAIL
The side lawn was the scene of a noisy fray between the old house cat and big dog, Bray. Servants from the neighborhood had quickly gathered to urge on the sport. Some of the children, Willis among the loudest, were crying and beseeching the men servants to save “poor Kitty,” which they reluctantly did to the extent of allowing her to escape up an old crab apple tree.
“I wush ter de Lawd he had er kilt her,” said Phyllis, letting her rheumatic limbs down by degrees to a sitting posture on the grass, “’Ceitful old thing, I don’t blame Bray!”
“I love my Kitty!” cried Willis as he ran to the tree. There he earnestly advised the cat to stay just where she was until Bray went to sleep. A few of the larger children lingered expecting another fight, as Bray continued to bark and jump about the tree.
“You ne’en ter tell dat cat ter take keer er herse’f! She des settin’ up dat tree glis’nin’ dem old green eyes on Bray an’ sayin’ ter ’erse’f: ‘Nuv’r mind, I’m gwine fix you soon es I git down fum hyah!’”
“What can she do, Mammy Phyllis?” asked one of the larger girls. “She’s too little to hurt Bray!”
“Yas, an’ ole Sis’ Cat wus lit’ler’n her, an’ yit she come mighty nigh ter fixin’ Ned Dog an’ Billy Goat, too! Doan nuv’r put no ’pindence in Sis Tabby’s fokes.”
“Oh, Mammy Phyllis, please tell us about Ned Dog,” and the children gathered around her pressing the request.