Becky sat quietly washing her face; but she saw what the kittens were doing, and thought it was her duty to give them a lesson in good manners: so she walked up to them, and boxed their ears till they ran away mewing piteously. They never again tried to lap milk from the pail.
"Tell me something else about Becky," Willy always says when I get to this point. So I go on:—
Becky was not so strict about her own manners. She would often surprise us by walking into our rooms without stopping to rap, or even to say mew; for she could open any door in the house by raising the latch with her paw.
She had several families of kittens. Once her whole family was one poor little thing, which lived only a few days. Becky was grieved sadly at its death; but, after mourning for some time, she went into the field and caught a mouse, which she adopted, and treated like a kitten.
After Becky had been with us a long time, my brother was taken sick; and, as he reclined in an easy-chair, she used to lie for hours beside him.
One day, a short time after he died, she entered the room, and, jumping up in the chair, examined it all over. Then she jumped down and sat on the floor, looking at the chair, and mewing sorrowfully. Then she went away; and we never saw poor Becky again, or knew what became of her.
"What do you suppose became of her?" is Willy's question here. "Ah, little boy! you can suppose as well as I."
Willy's Mother.
