“No,” said Edy; “the needles and thorns on it would prick and scratch him awfully. I’d like to see the captain’s monkey try to climb it. How he would cry!”
The young Dunlees never failed to have a good time at Mrs. Chick’s. She lived alone, and had a funny way of talking to herself, and asking,—
“Do you hear what I say, Biddy Chick?”
Her first name was Bridget.
Then, too, she kept numerous pet animals, which she caressed and talked to almost like children. Somebody had just given her three bits of motherless tortoise-shell kittens; and it was interesting to see her feed them. She had a bottle of milk with a quill in it; and, taking one kitty on her lap at a time, she said, “Now, my pretty baby,” and put the quill in its mouth. When the “pretty baby” had sucked all the milk that it ought to have, she put it down and took up another baby.
The beautiful little creatures were just beginning to see; and what they thought of their large, fat mother and the bottle with a quill in it I cannot say. But they always ate heartily, and afterwards rolled themselves up in little balls close together on a cushion, and went to sleep in the sun, looking perfectly happy.
There was another pet, a playful young kid with a brass collar on his neck, who trotted about on his little black feet, following his mistress everywhere, even into the parlor. He, too, had been brought up on a bottle, and his name was Trot.
Mrs. Chick had two cows, a horse, and many hens and turkeys. She sometimes took the turkeys with her when she went visiting. Then there was a two years’ old baby over the way, who was always dancing in and out, and making a good deal of trouble; so Mrs. Chick was seldom lonely.