CHAPTER EIGHTH.

CONCLUSION

[Illustration: TABBY'S TRAVELS.]

TABBY'S TRAVELS

[Illustration]

CHAPTER FIRST.

TABBY'S ESCAPE.

I SUPPOSE a pleasanter kitchen was hardly ever seen than the one in which my story commences. It was not one of those under-ground places, with little square windows close to the low ceiling, and on a level with the street, or shut in by a grim area-wall, in which so many girls spend all their working time, without being able to see so much as a square foot of sky, except by twisting their heads half off their shoulders. No, it was a high, light room, with two large windows, which let in so much light and air that the geraniums and verbenas on the window seats flourished as if they had been in a green-house; and looking out upon a square yard, small to be sure, but kept so nicely, and in summer so filled with flowers that it was a pleasure to look into it. There were no flowers or other growing things to be seen, however, at the time our story commences, for the ground was frozen hard, and covered with a light snow, which a cold wind was driving here and there, and twirling high up into the air, till the flakes caught the sunbeams and glittered like showers of diamonds.

It might be cold out of doors, but it was warm enough in the kitchen, where a good fire was burning in the stove, making the tea-kettle send out clouds of steam, and the cover of the boiler pop up and down as if there were something alive under it which wanted to get out. Dorothy the cook, and Anne the housemaid, had gone into the dining-room to family prayers, and three cats—that is to say, a cat and two kittens—were the only inmates of the kitchen.

The old cat was sitting up in Dorothy's patchwork cushioned chair, washing her face very demurely and sedately, at the same time keeping her eye on the kittens, that they might not get into any mischief, and be whipped by the cook when she came down stairs—an event which, I am sorry to say, had happened more than once. The two kittens, whose names were Tody and Tabby, were frolicking round the floor, chasing their own and each other's tails, and twisting round and over the rungs of the chairs, till any one might have thought they would certainly have broken their necks. Tody was black and white. His breast, paws, and the tips of his ears and tail were as white as snow, while all the rest of his body was jet black, and shone like satin. He was a very pretty kitten indeed, but not so pretty as Tabby, who was a true tortoise-shell. Her face and paws were also white, but the rest of her body was curiously mottled with yellow, black, and grey, disposed in spots and stripes, while her tail was regularly ringed with black and yellow down to the tip, which was white. She was a very beautiful kitten indeed, but not so neat as Tody, for her fore-paws were blackened, and there was a great black mark on the side of her face.

"Miaw!" said Tody presently. "Don't bite so hard, Tabby, you hurt me!"

"You always think you are killed, if any one touches you," said Tabby, pettishly. "You have bitten me a great deal harder than that many a time, and I did not mew at all. However, I am not going to play with you if you are going to quarrel all the time." And with these words, Tabby went and sat down by the fire in a very dignified manner.

Tody looked rather sorry, but he did not say anything. He got up in the chair, by the side of his mother, and began licking her face and head, now and then playfully biting her ears and pulling her tail.

"I should think mother could wash her own face without any of Tody's help," said Tabby, after watching them a few minutes discontentedly.

"I should think mother could govern her own kittens without any of Tabby's help," returned the old cat good-naturedly, straightening herself up in the chair, and rolling Tody over with her paw. "And, by the way, talking of washing, what makes your paws so black?"

"I don't know, I am sure," said Tabby, hastily sitting down, and folding her paws under her. "I must have got them dirty playing about the fire, I suppose."

The old cat jumped down from the chair, and going up to Tabby, pulled her paws from under her breast, looked at them, smelt them, and then said, in a tone of grave displeasure: "Tabby, you have been playing among the coals again!"

Tabby did not attempt to deny it. She hung down her head, and looked very much ashamed.

"You have been playing in the coal-box again, though you know I forbade you to go near it," pursued her mother, very seriously; "and worse than that, you have been running over the cook's baskets, and have left the marks of your black paws upon her clean napkins, which were folded and sprinkled, ready for ironing. I should not wonder if she should whip you, and make you go without your breakfast, and I should not blame her if she did.

"I really don't know what will become of you, Tabby, if you are such a naughty kitten. Only the day before yesterday you pulled the raw turkey off on the floor, and ate half of its neck. And last Sunday morning you jumped upon the breakfast table, and turned a cup of coffee all over the clean cloth. You will surely come to a bad end, my daughter, if you are so heedless and disobedient. Once I knew of a kitten who would persist in getting on the table and into the pantry, and one day the coachman tied her in a bag, with a stone round her neck, and threw her off the railway-bridge. The river was very high, and she was carried over the falls and drowned."

At the thought of his dear little sister going over the falls in a bag with a stone tied round her neck, Tody turned quite cold all over. He jumped down from the chair where he had been sitting, and came to his mother.

"Dear mother, pray don't say such dreadful things as that," said he, with tears in his eyes. "I am sure Tabby will be a good kitten, and do as you tell her—won't you, Tabby, dear?"

But Tabby made no answer, and went on licking her paws, trying to look as though she did not care, and the old cat, seeing how sulky she was, called Tody away to sit up among the plants in the sunshine, leaving Tabby to her own thoughts by the side of the fire.

Tabby felt very naughty indeed. It was not the first time nor the second that she had been in mischief that week, and she had been twice whipped, once by the cook, for pulling down the turkey, and once by Miss Sophia, in the drawing-room, for jumping upon the commode, and knocking down a little china cup. It was very pretty and round, and Tabby thought she should like to roll it about the floor. She was frightened enough when she saw it break all to pieces, for she knew how much the family valued this cup, which had been sent home by Mr. Edward, all the way from Japan, whither his ship had gone: so terrified, indeed, was she that she forgot to run away, and so Miss Sophia caught her, and gave her a good whipping with her little whalebone riding-whip which hung in the hall.

The worst of it was that no one was sorry for her but Tody; even her mother, though she licked her all over and did what she could to comfort her, told her that she was served right for going where she had no business, and Tabby, instead of confessing that she had been a naughty pussy, and resolving to do better in future, thought herself a very ill-used cat. She made up her mind that nobody loved her, and that all the world had a spite against her, so that when Tody came to console her, and brought her a little mouse which the stable-boy had caught and given him, she snatched it up growling, and carried it off without so much as saying "Thank you."

She had often been told that she must not play among the coals, and it was difficult to see why she was so fond of doing so, but all her mother's admonitions and cuffs did no good. This very morning she had jumped into the bin after a feather which she saw there, and had chased it up and down among the coals, till all the under part of her body was as black as the coal itself. She had succeeded in getting rid of most of it, but her paws were too dirty to be cleaned with one washing, and she had kept out of the way, hoping her mother would not observe them till the tell-tale colour had worn off.

Presently the cook and housemaid came down from prayers bringing the breakfast dishes with them, and Dorothy, scraping the contents of the plates together upon a large dish, and pouring some milk into a bowl, called all the cats into the outer kitchen, and set the provision down before them. There were well-buttered rolls, some pieces of cold ham and chicken, and quite a quantity of hash, enough to satisfy any reasonable cat, one would think. But Tabby was not in the humour to be pleased with anything.

"I should think they might have fresh fish for breakfast, sometimes," she said peevishly, turning over the contents of the plate with her paw. "We have not had a bit of fish since I can remember."

"It is not the season for fish," said her mother, "but there is a piece of cold chicken for you. I should think that was a very nice breakfast for a kitten."

Tabby murmured something about being sick of chicken, but took the offered piece nevertheless, and ate it all herself without offering to divide with Tody, who was very contentedly munching his cakes and hash. She ate so greedily, indeed, that she almost choked herself, and was reproved by her mother for her ill manners. This filled up the cup of her discontent, and she felt as though she would like to do almost anything that was naughty.

All the morning she sat sullenly by the side of the fire, resisting all the attempts of Tody to entice her into a game of play, and brooding over her fancied wrongs, till she really convinced herself that she was the most ill-used kitten in the whole world. She would not even go up stairs when little Ella and Marian called them all into the nursery for a frolic, and she ran and hid behind the boiler in the cellar, when Ella came after her the second time.

"Go along then, you contrary little thing," said Ella, after she had coaxed and called in vain, till her patience was exhausted. "I never saw such a kitten in my life. I don't see, for my part, how such a little cross-patch ever came to be Tody's sister." And away she ran, leaving Tabby to come out when she got ready, which she did with her paws blacker than ever, and a great smudge on her side, where she had rubbed against the pots.

"O Tabby! Why didn't you come up stairs?" said Tody, when he came into the kitchen some time afterward. "You don't know what a nice time we had. Miss Ella rolled her glass balls and marbles all over the floor for us to play with, and gave mother and me each a piece of pound-cake."

"I suppose you would not have saved any for me for the world," said Tabby scornfully.

"I was going to bring you part of mine," said Tody, "but mother wouldn't let me. She said you ought to come when you were called, and if you did not, you must take the consequences."

"Mother thinks I am the very worst kitten that ever lived in the world," said Tabby, tears of vexation coming into her eyes, as she thought of the pound-cake and the pretty glass balls, her favourite playthings, all lost by her own perversity. "I do believe she would be glad if I were dead and out of the way. But never mind," she continued, not heeding Tody's exclamation of horror at this wicked and undutiful speech; "I shall not be in her way very long. I am not going to stay where I am abused all the days of my life."

In fact, Tabby had thought over her imagined wrongs, till all her musings and broodings had resulted in a settled purpose. She had made up her mind to run away! Yes, to such a pitch had her perversity arrived that she had determined to leave the kind mother and brother who loved her so dearly, and the friends who had fed and petted her ever since she was born, and go out into the world to seek her fortune. Now, what the world was like, she had no idea. She had never been outside the garden-walls, except when her mother had once or twice taken her and Tody to a neighbour's barn to give them a lesson in mousing, and the only persons she had ever seen besides Mrs. Merriam's family, were the little girls who sometimes came to see Miss Ella and Miss Marian, and the butcher's boy who now and then gave her a piece of meat out of his basket.

Tabby was a self-willed kitten. She had a great deal of perseverance too, and would never give up anything she attempted till she had tried every way to attain the object of her wishes. She knew very well that she should have no trouble in accomplishing her ends this time, for her mother was accustomed to go out for a walk every afternoon, leaving her and Tody to take care of themselves. Tody usually took a nap in the window seat, and nothing would be easier than, while he was fast asleep, for her to slip out of the kitchen when the door was opened, run along the garden-wall to the neighbouring house, which was on the corner, and then jump into the street and go where she pleased.

Having thus made up her mind to escape from what she considered the evils of her lot, and seeing clearly how to bring it about, she was inclined to be very good-natured, and was so playful and pleasant the rest of the morning that her mother thought she was sorry for her perverseness, and had made up her mind to be good; and very glad she was to see it, for whatever Tabby might imagine in her naughtiness, if her mother made any difference between her kittens, she loved Tabby the best.

Tody was naturally of a very placid and cheerful disposition, and had given her very little trouble. He had also a strong constitution, and had never seen a sick day, while Tabby was delicate from her birth, and for some days her mother had considered it doubtful whether she would ever live to get her eyes open. Then she had had two very bad fits in her infancy, and she was almost two months old before she began to grow strong and hearty. This circumstance induced not only her mother, but all the family, to bear with her infirmities of temper, and treat her with great indulgence, and she had been allowed to do many things which would have insured a sentence of banishment against any other cat. She was exceedingly handsome, and very playful when in a good humour, and the children were quite as fond of her as of Tody, who was never out of temper, and always ready for a game of romps.

But all this had no influence upon Tabby. She had been so mischievous lately that it had been absolutely necessary to punish her more than once. But instead of seeing that it was her own fault and amending her ways, she had made up her mind that she was a very ill-used cat, and would be better off almost anywhere else than at home. This feeling had been brewing in her mind for some time, and the events of the day had brought it to such a point that she was determined to act upon it. How she did so, and what adventures she met with, we shall see hereafter.

As Tabby sat down to her excellent dinner of bread and meat, she could not help having some misgivings, when she reflected that she did not know where she was to get her supper, nor whether she were likely to have any, but she had made up her mind, and she was not a kitten to be easily frightened. So she made a hearty meal, and took a good drink of milk and water as a provision for her journey, and then began to put her fur in order, watching impatiently for the time when she might leave all her troubles behind her and escape to that unknown future which her fancy pictured to her in such gay and attractive colours.

She had not to wait long. As if to favour her designs, her mother went out earlier than usual, telling the kittens that she might be gone till after tea, and giving them a great charge not to get into any mischief. It was the day but one before Christmas. The cook was busy baking mince-pies, stuffing her turkey, and getting all things ready for the Christmas feast. The young ladies of the family, Miss Sophia and Miss Fanny, were finishing up their presents, frosting cakes, and making preparations for the children's party on Christmas eve, and the little girls, Ella and Marian, were too happy in being allowed to help to care anything about playing with the kittens.

It was about three o'clock in the afternoon. The sun was shining brightly and it looked very pleasant out of doors, but in the house it was necessary to keep up large fires to make the rooms comfortable. Tabby watched her opportunity when the cook went out into the yard, and slipped out after her, hiding behind the rose-bushes till she went into the house and the door was shut. Then she jumped up on the wall, skipped along the top till she came to where it joined the back-wall of her next neighbour, and was just about to jump over, when, to her consternation, she beheld her mother sitting below under some grape-vines, in company with two or three other cats of the neighbourhood. She drew back in haste, afraid lest her mother might have seen her, and sat for some moments hardly daring to breathe. Presently she ventured upon another peep. The mother had not stirred, but was busily engaged in conversation with her friends, and Tabby took courage. Instead of crossing directly into the next street, however, as she had at first intended, she jumped over into the garden which joined the back of Mr. Merriam's, crept along under the wall, then jumped over into the next and the next, nor did she look round till she had put at least half a dozen gardens, and quite a long street, between herself and her fond mother and happy home.

She was now in quite an extensive garden, much larger than any she had passed through, and planted with a variety of evergreens, and other trees and shrubs, such as she had never seen before. Among them was one covered with large bunches of crimson berries, and around this were gathered many robins, some of which were perched on the branches, while others perched on the snow, picking up the berries which had fallen on the ground. Tabby wagged her tail and chattered her teeth with pleasure at the sight.

"Now for a famous supper," she said to herself, as she crept softly forward in the shadow of a large cedar tree. "If I can get one of these nice large birds, and I am almost certain I can, I need not envy Tody his supper of milk and cold toast. I think cold toast is miserable stuff myself. Now for it!" said she, as, crouching close to the ground, and wriggling her body, she prepared for a spring, already tasting the game in anticipation.

But a bird in the bush is not the same as a bird in the hand, as Tabby learned to her cost. She sprung with all her force, and alighted exactly where she intended, but the bird which she had intended for her supper was quicker than herself. He saw her as she sprang, and was safely perched upon the top branches of the tree before she reached the place where he had been. All the other robins took the alarm, and when she looked around, after assuring herself that she had missed her aim, every bird had disappeared.

The sun had set, and the piercing wind penetrated her fur, and made her shiver all over. It was getting late; she had had no supper, and she did not know where to turn to find any. Gladly would she have eaten a piece of the cold toast she had so lately despised, or even one of the buck-wheat cakes, which she would never condescend to touch. She looked around her, and considered what was best to be done, and at last determined to go boldly up to the house and ask for something to eat.

"It is such a grand house," she reflected, "that I am sure they must have much nicer meals than we used to get at home."

Poor Tabby! She had yet to learn that the comforts of housekeeping are not always proportioned to the size of the house by any means.

She stole gently along toward the kitchen, intending to watch her opportunity and slip in when the door was opened, but she had not reached it by a good many yards, when she heard a savage bark which made her hair stand on end, and in another instant a fierce dog made a dash at her. It was a fortunate thing for Tabby that a tree was close at hand, or my story would have had a sudden termination. Terror lent her wings, and in a moment she was safe among the branches, wondering at her own escape, and feeling almost as if the bull-dog's teeth were already in her back.

She was safe, however, for this time, but what to do next? The dog was at the foot of the tree, barking savagely, and every now and then leaping up as if to catch her. It was quite dark; she was chilled through, and ready to faint from hunger. This was very different certainly from the bright future she had portrayed to herself, sitting by the fire in the nursery, and she began to wish she had stayed at home. But it was too late now; she must drink as she had brewed, and the beverage did not seem likely to be very much to her taste.

CHAPTER SECOND.

THE WARRINGTON FAMILY.

TABBY kept hoping that the dog would go away, so as to allow her to come down, but he showed no signs of any intention to do so, keeping watch at the foot of the tree, as though he had made up his mind to have her for his supper at any cost; so Tabby thought at least, for she did not know that dogs never ate cats.

The night grew colder and colder, the wind pierced through her fur, and so benumbed her limbs that she could hardly retain her hold on the branch. She was more hungry than she had ever been in all her life before, and as she thought of her mother and Tody, snug and warm in their nest under the back-room stairs, sleeping soundly after a comfortable supper, she could hardly help mewing aloud.

"Oh!" said she to herself. "How foolish I was! If ever I get back again, I shall know when I am well off. I daresay they are both sound asleep, never thinking or caring what becomes of me."

Tabby knew better in her own mind, but her conscience accused her for her undutiful conduct, and she felt as though it would be a relief to blame somebody beside herself. If she had seen her dear mother hunting for her up stairs and down and all over the neighbourhood, calling her lost child in the most pitiful tones, her hard heart might have been touched. But at present she thought of nothing but her own discomfort and danger. At last, after what seemed an age to the poor kitten, the gate opened, and some one came in whistling to the dog, who started up and ran to meet the new-comer, and then ran back to the tree, looking up at the kitten and then at his master, saying as plainly as a dog could say it: "There is a strange cat up in this tree."

"Why, Carlo, old dog, what are you barking at?" said the young gentleman, looking up into the tree. "Some unlucky cat, I suppose?"

"Miaw," ventured Tabby, thinking he looked very good-natured, and resolved on making an appeal to his sympathies. "Miau—au! Miew!"

The result of this experiment proved that she had not been mistaken in her estimate of character.

"Down, Carlo, down, old dog," said he to Carlo, and the old fellow immediately crouched down, looking on, however, with much interest to see what his young master was going to do.

"If I had minded my dear mother as well as that, I should not have been in this scrape," was Tabby's passing reflection, as she ventured to descend from the tree at the repeated invitations of the young gentleman, still, however, keeping a watchful eye upon the dog, and ready to betake herself to her place of refuge the moment he showed signs of another attack. No sooner did she come within reach, however, than Mr. Warrington seized her, and despite her struggles, for she was now almost as much afraid of him as of the dog, he carried her into the house, and introduced her into a warm and light room, where the family were assembled at supper.

"See here, girls," said he, as he held her out by the back of the neck, "here is some company for you."

"Another cat! I do think you are out of you senses, George!" said a young lady who was seated at the table. "You know the children will torment its life out, and a kitten is a nuisance in the house, at any rate."

"We shan't either. That is just like you, Barbara!" said a little girl about the age of Ella Merriam. "Always meddling. Do give her to me, George!"

"No, give her to me," exclaimed a younger girl and a boy both together.

"Don't give her to Aggy, give her to me. Aggy has got the parrot now."

"And Dora has got the gold-fish. I think you might give her to me, George."

"I have not said I should give her to anybody yet," said George, stroking Tabby, who began to think she had got among a queer set of people.

"I think, if I make a present to any one, it will be to Tessy, who has not asked for it at all."

The eyes of the little girl who sat at the end of the table began to sparkle, and she said gratefully, "Thank you, George. I shall like it so much. I have always wanted a tortoise-shell kitten."

"Tessy gets everything," said Agnes, her pretty face flushing with ill temper. "I wish I was lame, and then perhaps I might get something done for me."

"For shame, Agnes!" said Barbara. "How can you speak so of your cousin, as though she would be lame if she could help it? I think you have made a wise choice, George, though I am afraid the poor cat will not fare the better for it."

"I won't have any quarrelling about it, children," said Mrs. Warrington, who had hitherto kept silence. "I wish you had not brought her in at all, George, but since you have, you had better let her go into the kitchen and get something to eat."

"O mother! Do let us feed her here," exclaimed Dora and Charley together. "Let us give her some milk under the table."

"You know I do not like to have cats fed at the table," Mrs. Warrington began, but her voice was overborne in a torrent of remonstrance.

"Yes, mother! What harm will it do? Old Brindle always ate up here. Do give us some milk for her."

"Well," said Mrs. Warrington resignedly, giving way as usual, "only don't spill the milk on the carpet."

"I think the kitchen is the best place for her, for my part, if she is to stay at all," said Agnes. "A little dirty thing; she is not half as pretty as old Brindle was."

"Agnes thinks the grapes are sour," said Dora, as she set down a china saucer half full of milk. "She thought it was a beautiful kitten till George gave it to Tessy."

"Dora!" said her mother reprovingly.

"Well, she did, mother, you know she did."

"I wonder what Mrs. Merriam would say if Miss Ella or Miss Marian were to speak to her or to each other in that way?" thought Tabby to herself.

She drank the milk eagerly, and then looked up expecting something more, but nobody offered her anything, though there was cold meat on the table, and she would have been very glad even of a piece of dry bread. At last, the little girl called Tessy took a crust from her plate and offered it to her, but she had hardly seized it, before Agnes and Charley both exclaimed: "There, mother, Theresa is feeding her off her plate!"

"I am surprised at you, Theresa," said Mrs. Warrington severely. "You know I have forbidden the cats to be fed in the dining-room."

"She looked so hungry," said Tessy in excuse, her pale face flushing at the rebuke.

"Never mind how she looked. I told you once, and that was enough. I shall not let her stay here at all, if that is the way you are going to do."

"I don't see why it was any worse for Tessy than for Dora and Charley," said Barbara half aside to George. "But, poor girl, she has to take all the governing for the whole concern."

If Mrs. Warrington heard this speech, she did not see fit to notice it, and the whole party rose from the table, leaving Tabby alone in the dining-room, though Tessy looked longingly at her, as though she would have liked to carry her along.

"What children!" said Tabby to herself. "And what a cross woman! I am sure I never heard such goings-on at our tea-table, and I think it is a great deal pleasanter than this, though our dishes and tea-pots are not half so handsome. I think they might have offered me a bit of that cold meat; I am half-starved. I mean to have a piece at any rate."

So saying, she mounted upon a chair and was just reaching out her paw to the dish, when the door opened suddenly, and Agnes came in. Tabby made a hasty jump, and in her confusion, not seeing where she was going, she knocked a cup off the table, and broke it in two, besides spilling the tea all over the cloth.

"Oh! Ho! Miss Kitty! So that is the way you behave, is it?" said Agnes, seizing upon her as she tried to make her escape under the sideboard. "We shall see what mother will say to that!" And despite Tabby's efforts, she was carried off a prisoner to the drawing-room.

"Here is your beautiful tortoise-shell kitten, Miss Tessy! She has been up on the table, eaten all the cold meat, and broken two or three cups and saucers!" Such was Agnes's announcement, made in a tone of ill-natured triumph, as she entered the drawing-room with Tabby squeezed under her arm.

"Oh! What a story!" thought Tabby, as she struggled to escape from the pressure of Agnes's elbow. "I never touched the cold meat, and I only broke one cup."

"So much for bringing a strange cat into the house," said Mrs. Warrington in displeasure, and looking at Theresa as if she were the cause of all the mischief. "I will have her sent off or put out of the way to-morrow."

"Stop, mother. Remember she is my cat," said George. "I am not sure about having her disposed of so summarily. It was not right to leave her alone in the room with the meat. I daresay she was half-starved, poor thing."

"If you had given her to Agnes, she would not have been so ready to tell of her," said Dora. "Tabby is not the first who has taken things off the table." Tabby was quite surprised to hear herself called by her name, not knowing that it was one commonly applied to tortoise-shell cats.

"It is no worse to take things off the table than out of the cupboard," retorted Agnes.

"You need not squeeze the poor thing so, at any rate," said Charley, trying to pull Tabby away.

But Agnes held her fast, and the poor kitten began to think she would be torn in pieces between them. She uttered such a pitiful cry that Tessy started from her chair, and exclaimed, as her eyes filled with tears: "Oh! Don't hurt her so, poor little thing! Give her to me, please, Charley," she added imploringly, as Charley succeeded in gaining possession of her.

Charley hesitated, but he saw his elder brother's eye fixed upon him, and he had his reasons for not caring to disoblige George so near to Christmas time. "Take her then," he said rather sullenly, holding her out to Theresa, who took her and began smoothing her fur, ruffled by the violence of the children, "but I don't believe mother will let you keep her—will you, mother?"

"I certainly shall not have her about, if she gets on the table," said Mrs. Warrington with decision. "I think if people must have a cat, the barn is the best place for her. You had better take her out now, Charley, before she does any more mischief."

"Wait till Tessy goes to bed, mother," interposed Barbara, who had left the room a few minutes before, and now came back in time to hear her mother's last words. "The kitten has not done much harm after all. She has only broken that cup which has been cracked for a long time, and the meat is quite untouched. I would learn to tell a story straight, if I were Agnes."

"I would learn to mind my own affairs if I were Barbara," retorted Agnes, vexed that her sister should expose her exaggerations.

"Hush, Agnes," said her mother. "I am glad it was no worse. That cup has been unfit to be seen this long time, and so I have told Jane, but she would always set it out. I am really glad it is out of the way. You can keep the kitten till bed-time, Tessy, if you like, but don't let her get on any of the tables here."

Tabby had not the least inclination to get out of the lap of her kind little protectress, who stroked her so softly, and allowed her to lie quietly and recover her breath, after the rough treatment to which she had been subjected. By and by Tabby began to regain her spirits, to wash herself and to purr in answer to Tessy's gentle caresses. She had hardly ever been willing to lie in Ella Merriam's lap, though her little mistress never punished her in her life, but she was beginning to know a little of the value of kindness.

The children took very little more notice of her, but busied themselves with some games and puzzles, quarrelling and snapping at each other every few minutes. George and Barbara played chess and talked to each other, and Mrs. Warrington sat at a little table under the gas-light, and busied herself with some very curious-looking knitting. Tessy had her knitting to, but she spent most of her time patting and talking to Tabby, who now began to show off some of her accomplishments in the line of playing. At last Tessy's ball rolled out of her lap, and Tabby jumped after it, and brought it back in her mouth, as Marian had taught her to do. Tessy clapped her hands with delight.

"See, aunt—see, George! She has brought my ball back to me. What a dear little kitty!"

"I don't believe she did it on purpose," said Charley. "Try her again, Tessy."

Tessy rolled the ball and Tabby sprang after it, bringing it in her mouth as before, and jumping up into Tessy's lap.

"She is a cunning little thing," said Mrs. Warrington, after the experiment had been successfully repeated a number of times. "I never saw a cat do as much as that."

Tabby was delighted to see the effect of the favourable impression she had made, and tried the effect of her other grand feats, sitting up very straight on her hind legs, and putting her paws over her nose, as she had seen her mother do when begging for something to eat. She even went so far as to lie down on her back and roll over, a feat she had always been very unwilling to perform for Miss Ella, but she felt the necessity of making herself agreeable in her new situation.

Every one, even Agnes, agreed that she was a very pretty kitten, and wonderfully clever, but no one talked of getting her anything to eat, as she had hoped they would do. And when bed-time came, Mrs. Warrington gave her to Charley, and ordered him to give her to Jem to be carried out to the barn.

"Won't Carlo kill her if she is put out in the barn?" Tessy remonstrated.

"Oh! She can get up on the beams out of his way," replied Mrs. Warrington carelessly.

Tessy still looked very unhappy, and George remarking it, took the kitten from Charley's hands, saying to Tessy, "I will carry her out myself, and give Carlo a lesson on the subject. I will engage that he shall not touch her if I tell him not to do so. They will be the best friends in the world in a week's time."

"Friends with that horrible great dog! That I am sure I never shall," said Tabby to herself. "O my dear mother! What would you say if you knew that I was going to be put into such a place?" And for the first time Tabby began to wish she had been a better kitten.

George carried her out to the barn, and setting her down, called Carlo to him, who came out of his nest rather unwillingly. His eyes glistened when he saw the kitten, and he licked his great jaws in a way that made poor Tabby feel as though she were already devoured. Mr. George sat down on a box, and placing the kitten on his knee, he called Carlo up to him.

"See here, Carlo," said he, as Carlo came slowly along, "I want to show you this kitten. This is 'my' kitten, and you must not hurt her. Do you hear?"

Carlo turned his head round as far as he could, so as not to see Tabby, but Mr. George forced him to look at her.

"Now remember!" said he, as he set the kitten down on the floor under his nose. "You must not hurt her yourself, nor let any other dog meddle with her. You must take good care of her."

Carlo looked at the kitten and then at his master, wagged his tail, and nodded his head, as much as to say, "I will do as you tell me."

And George, satisfied that he would keep his word, took up the lantern and went out of the barn, shutting the door after him. No sooner was he gone than Tabby bounced up to the top of the manger, spitting and spreading out her tail, and making a tremendous fuss, as though she were going to eat somebody up in a moment. But Carlo only grinned good-naturedly, and went off to his bed in the straw, leaving Tabby to settle herself for the night as she pleased.

She did not feel like settling at all, for she had never slept away from her mother and Tody before, and besides she was very hungry, having had nothing since dinner except the milk the children had given her. Tabby had never caught a mouse in her life, though she had eaten two or three, and liked them very much; and she now began to speculate on the possibility of procuring one for her supper. She looked about a little, and seeing a very promising-looking hole under the manger, she settled herself to watch, as she had seen her mother do. She had not been long on the look-out, before a sharp nose and a pair of whiskers peeped out of the hole followed by a head and part of a body.

If Tabby had considered a moment, she would have seen that the head was much too large for that of a mouse, but she thought of nothing but her supper, and springing at the intruder, she seized him by the ears. In a moment she felt a sharp pain in her face, and discovered that she was caught in her turn by an enormous rat, very nearly as large as herself. In vain did she struggle and scratch; the rat held on, and presently another brown head was seen peering from the same hole.

Poor Tabby now gave herself up for lost, but at that moment she received efficient aid from a very unexpected quarter. Carlo had come out of his nest on hearing the scuffle, and seeing the state of the case, he bounced in among the combatants. The rats quickly retreated to their holes, leaving Tabby ready to faint from fear and fatigue.

"That rat had very nearly finished you, little kitty," said Carlo, after he had hunted through the straw, and smelt at the hole, to make sure that the enemy had left the field. "If I had not come in just as I did, he would have killed you as sure as a gun."

"I am sure I am very much obliged to you, Carlo," said poor Tabby, as soon as she could find breath. "I thought it was all over with me when I saw the second rat coming. Just see how he has bitten my face!"

"It is too bad!" said Carlo, giving the little face a compassionate lick with his great red tongue. "You should not try to catch rats yet, Tabby, you are quite too little. I should think a mouse would be quite as much as you could manage."

"I wish I could catch a mouse, any way," said Tabby with her eyes full of tears, as she licked the blood off her paws and breast. "I am so hungry I don't know what to do. O my dear mother! If I ever get back to you, I will be a better kitten than I have been."

"How did you come to leave your mother?" asked Carlo. "Did some one steal you, or did your people give you away?"

"I ran away," said Tabby, feeling very much ashamed as she made the confession. "I thought they did not use me well at home, and that it would be a very fine thing to seek my fortune. But if all the world is like what I have seen since dinner-time, I don't want to know any more about it. I am sure I never saw Miss Ella and Miss Merriam quarrel as the children here do." And then Tabby stopped, all at once, remembering how she had quarrelled with Tody that very morning.

"The world is a large place, and there are a great many different sorts of people in it," said Carlo thoughtfully. "I think if one has even a tolerably good home, it is best to stay in it while one can, and not try to improve one's condition by running away, one doesn't know where. But if you want to catch a mouse, there are plenty in this barn. I will show you where to watch, and I have no doubt you will find one very soon. Just call me if the rats trouble you again. Good-night."

Carlo showed Tabby a proper place to watch, and then lay down to sleep, but it was not till after two hours of patient waiting, and one or two disappointments, that she succeeded in catching a tolerably-sized mouse. Nothing that she had eaten in her life ever tasted half so good to her as this mouse; she only wished it had been twice as large; and having eaten all but the tail, she washed her face and paws, as her mother had taught her to do after meals, and then went and curled down in the straw close to Carlo, feeling as though his presence would be a protection, for she felt very friendless and lonely. Her face pained her very much at first, but it grew easier by degrees, and at last she fell asleep, and slept soundly till morning.

She was roused by the entrance of the stable-boy, who was very much surprised to see a kitten lying asleep between Carlo's paws. It was not long before a little lame step and the sound of a crutch was heard upon the brick walk outside, and Tabby, guessing by instinct to whom they belonged, ran to the door, and met Theresa, who had come out to seek her as soon as she was dressed.

"Oh! My dear little kitty! How glad I am to see you," she exclaimed, resting her crutch against the stable-door, and taking Tabby up in her arms. "But how did you hurt your poor little face so badly? Carlo, you naughty dog, did you bite my poor pussy?"

"I don't believe it was Carlo, Miss Theresa," said Jem; "I rather think a rat did that. I found her and Carlo sleeping on the straw together, as good friends as you please."

If it had been in Tabby's power, she would have told Tessy how Carlo had taken her part against the rats, and showed her how to catch a mouse for her supper. But she could not make her little mistress understand such a long story, so she had to content herself with rubbing her head against the old dog's legs, and looking up in his face to show that they were good friends. Tessy was very much pleased at this exhibition of good feeling between her two favourites; and taking Tabby in her arms, and followed by Carlo, she was soon at the kitchen-door, begging the cook to give her some cold meat for their breakfast.

Now Tessy, even in the short time she had been in her aunt's family, had become a great favourite with all the servants, from her kindness and her obliging manners, and they were all ready to do anything in their power for the little lame girl, who took such good care of her things and never gave them any unnecessary trouble. So as soon as Martha heard what it was that Tessy wanted, she went into the pantry and soon returned with a plateful of bits of cold meat and potatoes, bread-crumbs, and other scraps, which she set down before the hungry animals.

Tabby ate her share very thankfully, and did not grumble when Carlo took a large part of the meat for his share, leaving her the cold potatoes and crumbs. Could this be the same kitten who only twenty-four hours before had turned up her nose so scornfully at the cold hash, and would hardly condescend to eat a bit of chicken? Yes, but Tabby had learned more wisdom in that twenty-four hours than in all her life before; for she had learned to know when she was well off, and to appreciate the goodness of her kind mother and brother. She almost choked over her breakfast as she thought of Tody, and imagined how lonely he must be with nobody to play with; and she resolved that as soon as the weather moderated a little, she would find her way home, tell her mother how sorry she was, and endeavour to make amends for giving her so much trouble.

As Tessy stood leaning on her crutch watching Tabby and Carlo, some one called her from the top of the stairs, and looking up at the sound, she saw her cousin Barbara.

"What are you doing in the kitchen so early, Tessy?" asked Miss Warrington.

"I am feeding my kitten," said Tessy. "The rats have bitten her terribly; at least Jem says it is the rats, and I don't like to have her stay in the barn, but I don't know what to do with her."

"Why don't you take her into the play-room?" asked Barbara.

"I would," replied Tessy, "but—" she hesitated, and Barbara seemed to understand her.

"I know, but never mind, Tessy, try to keep the peace as long as you stay. Remember we shall go away after the holidays, and I am sure you will like being at school. You can take the kitten into my room, and play with her there in peace, for the children are all going out directly after breakfast. I know they are troublesome little torments, but it cannot be helped."

Theresa felt very grateful for the permission, but as she picked up Tabby and followed her cousin up stairs to her own room, she could not help thinking that Barbara did not always take the best way to help it, and that she might do a good deal to improve matters if she went to work in the right way.

Tessy had been used to a very different state of things. Her father and mother had been dead a long time, and she and her two little brothers had resided with an aunt, who took care of them. Tessy could not recollect having quarrelled with her brothers but twice in her life, and both times when they were all very little children. She well remembered how sorry and ashamed she had felt, and how glad they had all been to kiss and be friends again. When her good aunt died, and her brothers were placed in situations proper for them, she had been in some degree consoled for the distress of parting by the idea that in her cousins she should have companions of her own age, and little girls too.

But she had not been long in her aunt's family before she discovered that it was very possible for "children of one family" to be anything but pleasant companions. Agnes, Dora, and Charley quarrelled from morning till night. If Dora particularly liked any of her schoolmates, it was reason enough for Agnes to dislike her; and she never failed to take every opportunity of displaying her feelings. Dora, in her turn, hated all Agnes's pets, declaring that Madge, the parrot, was a perfect nuisance, and Mary Parker, Agnes's favourite playmate, the most disagreeable girl she had ever seen in her life. Charley was his mother's pet, and, secure in her favour, he teased every one in the house, except his brother George, of whom he stood considerably in awe.

Mrs. Warrington was an indolent woman who loved her children in a passive way, especially when they were small, but she could never take the trouble to teach, much less to govern them. The only approach she ever made to the latter, was to threaten to send them to bed if they quarrelled. But as she never put her threat into execution, it had very little effect in stopping their contentions. Barbara and George were only her stepchildren. They were about eight years old when she married Mr. Warrington, and had been kept at school almost ever since, meeting only in the holidays. They were twins, extremely fond of each other, and caring very little for any other society when together; they were, in a measure, independent of the circle at home, even of their step-mother, who, however, always treated them very kindly in her passive way, and to whom they were generally respectful.

Barbara had very little influence with her brothers and sisters, and did not act in a way to increase it, for she did not take pains to conceal her opinion that they were as she expressed it, "troublesome little torments." George had more, and used it more wisely, and he did now and then succeed in putting a stop to their endless contentions. Agnes was sometimes induced to give up her own way, and Dora to cease her sarcastic speeches, and even Charley to restrain his fit of passion, when his older brother's calm eye was fixed upon him, especially about Christmas time; for George was abundantly supplied with pocket-money, and made a very wise as well as a very generous use of it.

It was into such a family as this that Tessy was introduced to spend the remainder of her life, at least till she should have a home of her own. It may be easily believed that she did not find it very pleasant. She was, as one of the servants expressed it, like a cat without claws in the midst of her young cousins, and most thankful she was when her aunt and her guardian decided that she should go to boarding-school with Barbara after the Christmas holidays.

She looked forward to the beginning of school as to a haven of rest, and meantime devoted all her powers to the endeavour to keep the peace, and gain some influence with Agnes and Dora, which might be to their advantage. She was three years older than Agnes, the eldest, and wonderfully skilful with her needle, and in a hundred little arts interesting to children, such as cutting out and painting paper dolls and birds, making little boxes and baskets of all sorts of materials, dressing dolls, etc., all of which she turned to good account. Sometimes, it is true, Agnes and Dora united their forces against her, and then she fared badly, for her aunt never would believe but that she was the person most to blame. But generally, she filled the not very enviable position of mutual friend in the family.

Dora and Agnes often came to her with their complaints of each other, of their teachers and schoolmates, and even of their mother, for whom, as may well be imagined, they had no very deep respect. In all these cases, Tessy smoothed away and softened down and did her best to reconcile the contending parties, it must be confessed with varying success. She had been from the first a great favourite with George and Barbara, who took her part upon all occasions, somewhat to the displeasure of their mother, who could seldom see that her own children were to blame, and a good deal to the jealousy of Agnes and Dora.

Tessy followed her cousin up stairs to her own pleasant and nicely furnished bedroom, where the children were only allowed to come on

## particular invitation. No sooner was Tabby released, than, according

to the custom of cats, she began an examination of every piece of furniture in the room.

"I wonder why cats always do that when they are taken into a strange place?" said Tessy.

"I suppose they want to make themselves acquainted with their surroundings," replied Barbara; "just as you and I should do if we were taken into a strange house to live. She is a wonderfully pretty kitten, I must allow. I daresay somebody is sorry enough to lose her."

"Perhaps she was sent away," observed Tessy. "I have known of people losing kittens on purpose, when they want to get rid of them."

"I think that is a very cruel thing to do," replied Barbara. "I should rather have one killed at once than subject it to the chances of being starved or frozen to death. And beside that, I never can get over the fancy that such animals have enough of human feeling about them to be distressed and hurt at ill treatment. But come, there is the breakfast bell!"

Tessy and Barbara accordingly went down stairs, leaving Tabby in possession of the luxurious apartment and the bright coal fire, all of which seemed doubly pleasant to her after her night in the barn.

"What a beautiful room!" she said to herself, as she took possession of a velvet-covered ottoman by the fire, and began cleaning her face and paws, which still bore traces of her yesterday's adventure. "There is not a room in our house so handsomely furnished, and the carpet is just like velvet; but for all that, I like our house the best. Miss Ella and Miss Marian do not wear as handsome frocks as Agnes and Dora, but they are a great deal prettier, and I am sure there is no comparison as to behaviour. But I need not say anything about that, after being so naughty myself. O my dear Tody! If I once get back to you, I will never quarrel with you again."

Tabby was deeply sunk in these and similar reflections when she imagined she heard a familiar mew, and she jumped down and ran to the window. It was shut, and the blinds closed, but as she listened she heard the sound again. It was beyond question her mother's voice! She had come to look for her kitten—her lost kitten, who, shut up in this splendid prison, had no means of rejoining, or even of communicating with her.

Tabby was almost distracted. She ran to the other window. The blinds of this were only partly closed, and through the space between the slats she saw her mother carefully looking about under the roses and evergreens, and now and then calling her in tones that went to her very heart.

Poor Tabby! She mewed as loud as she could in answer, but the room was in the third story, and the glass in the window was too thick for her voice to penetrate. She scratched at the door like a mad creature, and even tried to break the window with the desperate intention of jumping down at all hazards, but in vain.

All the time she saw her mother seeking her in every corner, and even looking up at the very window where she was. What was her horror, when she saw Carlo, who was lying on the back piazza, suddenly arouse himself, and make a furious dash at her beloved parent!

Tabby gave a shriek which might have been heard even out to the garden, and shut her eyes in terror. But when she opened them again, and dared to peep out, her mother was nowhere to be seen, and Carlo was walking back towards the house, looking decidedly crest-fallen, and with three great scratches on his nose.

This relieved her mind of a little of its anxiety, for she thought if her mother had been killed, her body would be seen, but the next moment she was conscious of a sickening sense of disappointment. She had intended carefully to watch her mother's motions and mark which way she went, and as soon as she should be at liberty, follow in her footsteps, hoping thus to find her way home again. This hope was now frustrated, and she was as much at a loss as ever. So after satisfying herself that her mother was nowhere to be seen, she went slowly and sorrowfully back to her seat by the side of the fire, and endeavoured to forget her troubles in sleep.

Meantime, the party down stairs were busily talking over their plans for the day. Agnes and Dora were going out shopping together to buy their Christmas presents. Barbara intended to do the same by herself, and Charley also had a plan of his own. None of the children asked Theresa what she was going to do, and she was not sorry to be overlooked. She intended to spend the morning in Barbara's room, finishing some scarfs she had been knitting for George and Charley, and putting the last touches to a toilet-cushion for her aunt.

The breakfast hour was much pleasanter than usual, for the thought of the day's enjoyment kept Agnes and Dora in a good humour, and Charley was restrained from any of his ordinary outbreaks of temper by the fear of losing his Christmas present from George.

In the midst of the breakfast the door-bell was rung, and the servant brought in two notes, one directed to the Misses Warrington, and the other more particularly to Miss Barbara Warrington. The first proved to be an invitation from Mrs. Merriam to the Misses Warrington for Christmas eve—the other was a note from Fanny Merriam to Barbara, asking her to come over with the children, and help to entertain the little party.

"What have you to wear, Tessy?" asked Barbara, as the other girls were discussing their dresses with their mother, and proving, beyond dispute, that it was absolutely necessary for them to have new sashes and shoes.

Before Tessy could reply, Agnes answered for her.

"Why, Barbara, Tessy isn't invited. It says 'the Misses Warrington.'"

"Well, and is not Tessy Miss Warrington?"

"I don't believe Mrs. Merriam meant to ask her, any way," persisted Agnes. "Why should she? She has never seen her, and Tessy doesn't know Ella and Marian at all. Do you think she did, mother?"

"I don't know, I am sure," replied Mrs. Warrington absently, her attention being again absorbed by the newspaper she was reading between her sips of coffee.

"I know, mother," said Barbara decidedly. "Fanny says in her note to me: 'Be sure and bring your cousin Theresa, for the girls are very anxious to make her acquaintance.' So you see that settles it."

Agnes had one of those amiable tempers which always resents as an insult the being proved to be mistaken, even in the most trifling matter. Moreover, she remembered what she had said to Ella, about Tessy's being a poor relation, dependent upon her mother's bounty, though she knew very well that it was untrue. In fact, these very remarks had been the cause of the particular invitation given to Tessy, Mrs. Merriam concluding from what she knew of the family, that a dependant must have an unpleasant life among them.

"Well, I suppose Tessy will do as she likes, she always does, but I should not think she would want to go."

"I won't go, if you don't want me, Agnes," said Tessy with more spirit than she usually showed.

"Nonsense! You shall go too," said Barbara. "I want you to take care of me and keep me out of mischief. Come up stairs, and let me look at your frocks, and see what is best for you to wear."

She drew Tessy out of the breakfast room as she spoke, but not so quickly as to prevent her hearing Agnes's observation: "Well, if I were wearing as deep mourning as Tessy is, I should not want to go to

## parties, I am sure."

"Never mind what Agnes says," said Barbara, seeing Tessy's eyes filled with tears. "You know she cannot bear to be contradicted about the least thing. I want you very much to be acquainted with Ella and Marian, who are two of the sweetest little girls I know. I am sure you will enjoy yourself, and it would not be civil to Mrs. Merriam to refuse such a particular invitation, unless you had some very good reason."

Tessy yielded to the force of this last argument, and they went up stairs together to inspect the frocks. The best bombazine was, after a critical examination, pronounced in perfect order, and just the thing with short sleeves and cambric ruffles, and Barbara only decided that her own present to Tessy should be a jet necklace. These all-important matters settled, Tessy returned to her cousin's room, rejoicing in the prospect of spending a quiet and happy morning with her work, her books, and Tabby, to whom she was already much attached.

CHAPTER THIRD.

THE PARTY AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.

WHEN Tessy came back to her room, she found Tabby looking very sad and unhappy indeed. She recovered her spirits, however, by degrees, under Tessy's petting and coaxing; for the hearts of kittens are very light by nature, and before long she was in the midst of a very great frolic, running after a ball and bringing it in her mouth, chasing her tail, and doing everything in her power to make herself agreeable. She did not forget what she had lately beheld, and every now and then she jumped upon the window seat to try if she could see anything more of her mother, but no traces of her appeared, and she concluded that she had gone home to Tody.

It was not till after dinner that Tabby found an opportunity of slipping out of the house unperceived, when she found to her great regret that it was snowing furiously and drifting so that she could not see two yards before her. Tabby was not a kitten to be daunted by trifles, but the short excursion from the backsteps to the barn convinced her that it would be utter madness to attempt to find her way home in such a storm, and she reluctantly put off her journey till better weather.

"Well, Tabby," said old Carlo, as she entered the stable, "this is hard weather, isn't it? Enough to freeze your little toes off."

"O Carlo!" exclaimed Tabby, unheeding the remark. "How could you chase my dear mother so? I shall never like you again—never!"

"Was that your mother?" asked Carlo, looking very much concerned. "I am sure I would not have chased her if I had known that. I suppose she came to look for you?"

"She did—she did!" exclaimed poor Tabby, almost choked by the violence of her feelings. "And I was shut up in the third story in Miss Barbara's room, and could not even make her hear me. Oh! What shall I do?"

Carlo felt very much grieved to see his little friend in such a state, and did his best to comfort her, but in vain.

"You did not hurt her, did you, Carlo?" asked Tabby as soon as she could speak.

"No, indeed!" replied Carlo, looking rather ashamed. "I was the one that got hurt in that instance. I never saw such a cat in my life. Instead of running away as they usually do, she flew right at my face, and almost scratched my eyes out. I was glad enough to let her get away as she liked. I did not see which way she went, but I rather think she jumped over the wall by the great grape-vine. Was that the way you came?"

"No, I believe I came over by the tall cedar in the other corner, but you frightened me so chasing me up in the tree that I don't exactly remember. But what made you do it? What is the use of always hunting cats?"

"Why, you see," replied Carlo, "my general orders are to drive away all strange animals from the yard and garden, whether they are cats or cows. But I do assure you, Tabby, if I had known it was your mother come to look for you, I would not have meddled with her on any account, so I hope you won't be angry."

Tabby could not be angry with her good friend Carlo who had saved her from the rats and given her part of his breakfast. So she rubbed her head against his legs in token of forgiveness, and then consulted him on the best course to take to find her way home again.

Carlo thought that as soon as the storm ceased, she had better go to the corner where she thought she first came over and try to remember which way she had come.

"That is, if you are determined upon going, Tabby," he concluded. "For my own part, I would advise you to stay where you are. You are tolerably well off here—to be sure, the children are not very pleasant, especially when Miss Barbara and Mr. George are away, but, after all, one can get on reasonably well with a little management: there is enough to eat and drink, and if it is not pleasant in the house, you can always come to the stable. If you start to go home, you are not sure of finding your house after all, and there is no telling to what dangers you may be exposed by the way, from strange dogs, and boys, and even old cats, who often treat kittens very roughly. I would make myself contented if I were you, and I promise you, you shall never want a friend while I am here."

Tabby shook her head.

"You are very kind, Carlo, but you don't know how I feel about it. I would run any risk for the sake of finding my dear mother, if it were only to tell her how sorry I am for being so naughty, and giving her so much trouble."

Carlo saw it was useless to argue with Tabby, and wisely refrained from saying any more to dissuade her, but he exacted a promise from her that she would not stir till the weather became warmer, thinking that by that time she might become more contented.

Tabby readily gave the required pledge, and then set herself to exploring the barn. She had become quite fearless from her adventures, and did not hesitate to run up the partition between the stalls, and over the heads of the great grey carriage horses, who looked good-naturedly at their little visitor as they champed their oats.

Tabby had the curiosity to nibble a little at the hay, but she thought it very poor food, and wondered that such large animals could subsist upon such diet. She did not know that oats and hay were as good to them as meat and milk to herself. "But after all," she considered, "it is an excellent thing that they do like it, for I am sure there would never be meat enough in the world to keep them alive."

Then she explored the hay-lofts, where she caught two mice, one of which she offered to Carlo, not without a pang of regret, as she thought how ungrateful she had been for those her kind mother had provided for her.

Carlo thanked her politely, but declined the dainty. He did not like mice, he told her, so she had a fine feast.

She could not but allow that a dinner earned by her own exertions tasted sweeter than one provided by other hands, however kind, and resolved that she would keep up her industrious habits after she returned home. Then she had a great frolic with a ball of string which she found in one corner, while Carlo and the horses looked on, amused by her gambols. And finally finding out a soft bed on a wolf-skin robe, she lay down and went to sleep.

The snow storm raged fiercely all the afternoon and evening, but it did not prevent the large party of invited guests from assembling at Mrs. Merriam's, where the warm fires and bright lights seemed all the warmer and brighter from their contrast to the darkness and cold without.

Barbara and her party were the first to arrive, Fanny Merriam having expressly desired her friend to come early. All the children looked very pretty in their gay dresses, bare arms, and curls—Tessy among the prettiest. Her frock was of plain bombazine with crape trimmings, for she was wearing very deep mourning for her aunt, but it was neat and unwrinkled, and the crimped cambric ruffles around her shoulders and arms were as white and fresh as a lily. Her usually pale face was lighted up with the glow and smile of pleasure, and her little crutch seemed to be no hindrance to her movements, as she joined in the active games of her companions. Mrs. Merriam thought she had never seen a more attractive girl, and Ella and Marian felt themselves particularly drawn towards her, remembering a time, not very long past, when they had themselves worn mourning for a dear little baby brother.

At last, in a pause of the games, Ella exclaimed:

"Only think, Miss Barbara, we have lost our beautiful tortoise-shell kitten. She went away the day before yesterday, and we cannot find out what has become of her, though we have hunted all round the neighbourhood. The old cat mourns for her from morning till night, and spends all her time looking for her, and poor Tody is so lonely, he will scarcely play at all."

Agnes and Dora looked at each other, and Agnes made her cousin a signal for silence, but Theresa disregarded it, and exclaimed—

"Why, there was a tortoise-shell kitten came to our house yesterday—perhaps it is the very same."

"I don't believe it is the same," said Agnes, looking angrily at Theresa. "How should your kitten come over to our house?"

"She might," said Ella, "if she had wandered away and got lost. What sort of a kitten was it, Theresa?"

Theresa gave a minute and animated description of her pet, which was found to agree point by point with that of the missing Tabby.

"I am sure it must be our kitten," said Marian, clapping her hands. "Oh! How glad am I that she is found! You will keep her for us, won't you, Theresa, and we will come for her as soon as we can."

"To be sure," said Theresa, suppressing a little sigh at the thought of losing her pet, and then brightening up, as she reflected how soon she was going away herself. "I am glad she has found her home again. She is the cunningest little kitten I ever saw, and so good-natured."

"She must have improved in that respect since she left home," said Ella, laughing. "We always thought her very cross, but perhaps that was only because Tody is so remarkably amiable."

"You must come after her pretty soon, if you want her, Ella," observed Agnes, vexed at her cousin, and unable entirely to conceal her habitual disposition. "She is such a thief, and so troublesome that mother thinks she will have to send her away. She gets upon the table, and breaks dishes, and does all sorts of bad things."

"Oh! Don't send her away, please!" exclaimed Ella and Marian both together. "Let her stay in the barn or somewhere till we can come for her."

"Of course she shall," said Barbara, who had been listening to the latter part of the conversation. "Agnes rather exaggerated her offence, Ella. She only jumped upon the table once, and the cup she broke was of no value. I will see that she is safely kept for you."

"Maybe you will, and maybe you won't," said Agnes to herself. "There are two words to that bargain, Miss Barbara."

"Miss Fanny," said a little girl, "are not cats a kind of tiger?"

Two or three of the children laughed rather rudely at this question, but the little girl was not abashed.

"I am sure I have read some such thing in one of my books," said she. "I do not see what there is to laugh at."

"Nor I," said Miss Fanny. "It is a very sensible question, Minnie, though it would be more correct to say that tigers are a species of cat. Lions and tigers, with leopards, panthers, lynxes, and all the smaller varieties, belong to one great family, which naturalists call the genus 'felis,' or the cat tribe."

"Then our little kittens are cousins to lions and tigers," observed Ella. "How funny! But, sister, why do they put so many animals together in one class, and all so unlike?"

"Because, unlike as they appear to you, there are more points of likeness than of difference," replied Miss Fanny, "as you would see if you were to examine them closely."

"I know lions have a good many of the actions of cats," said Tessy, "and so have panthers. Once I saw an old panther and two cubs in a large cage together, and they played with their mother and each other, and washed their faces and paws, exactly like great kittens."

"There are many other points of resemblance," said Miss Fanny. "You have all observed how peculiar the cat's paw is. Feel it when she is at rest or good-natured, and it is like velvet; you would not think she had any claws: but tease her, or give her something to eat, and you will soon see her talons. All the cat tribe have these 'retractile' claws as they are called—that is, their claws when not in use are drawn back into a sheath, which covers them, and keeps them from being blunted by walking. All the family have also the same number and kind of teeth; they have all smooth, short fur and long whiskers, and are very cleanly in their habits. They all seize their prey in the same way, by stratagem or surprise, and prefer to hunt in the night."

"Cats can see in the night as well as in the day-time," said the little girl who had spoken first.

"Yes, as well or better; and their eyes are beautifully contrived for the purpose. Look at a cat's eyes by a strong light, and you will see the pupil—that is to say, the dark hole in the middle of the eye—contracted to a narrow line, so as to let in but a few of the rays at once. But carry the animal into a dark room, and you will see the pupil expand so as to cover almost the whole eye. This is more or less true of all eyes belonging to the higher orders of animals, but all have not that great sensibility which enables the cat to see perfectly well in what is pitch darkness to us. Observe, too, their slender forms, and delicate yet muscular limbs, which enable them to walk without making the slightest noise, or to spring with crushing force upon their prey, and you will admit that they are admirably adapted to the kind of life they are intended to lead."

"It must have taken a great deal of sense to contrive a cat!" said little Minnie very seriously.

"You may say the same of any animal, my dear Minnie," replied Miss Fanny, "and the more you study natural history, which means the study of all things in nature, the more you will be struck with the care with which all species, not only of animals but of plants, are adapted to the stations they are intended to fill."

"Why do people say that cats have nine lives, Miss Fanny?" asked Dora.

"Because they are very tenacious of life," replied Miss Fanny. "A fall which would kill almost any other small animal instantly, will be sustained by a cat without apparent injury. You know it is a common saying that cats always fall on their feet, which I suppose is the reason they are not often hurt. Nevertheless I have known a cat killed by a very moderate fall."

"Did not some of the ancients worship cats?" asked Tessy.

"The Egyptians considered them sacred," replied Miss Fanny, "though I do not know that they actually worshipped them. They treated them always with much consideration when living, and embalmed their dead bodies with great care. These cat-mummies are now found in great numbers in Egypt, along with those of the Ibis, a kind of bird, and of the bull. It is now believed that a kind of wild cat found in Upper Egypt, and called by naturalists Felis Mamlata, is the original stock of the domestic cat."

"They are curious creatures," said Barbara. "I do not wonder that people used always to associate them with witches."

"Did they?" asked Dora.

"Yes, they play a prominent part in all the witch-stories of the last two or three centuries, and a great many tales were told of witches appearing in the form of cats to the persons they afflicted. The poor unfortunate wretches who were tried for witchcraft, when forced by abuse and torture to confess deeds which they never committed, almost always clothed their familiar imp in the form of a cat, usually a black one. And it must be confessed that there is something mysterious and almost alarming in the appearance of a large and well-fed coal-black cat. Then their property of emitting electrical sparks in cold weather—a property which they possess in a greater degree than almost any other animal, their great sagacity which is united to a degree of independence or wilfulness which makes it very difficult to train them, and the horrible and surprising noises in which they are accustomed to indulge at their nightly meetings, all combine to render them a terror to ignorant people whose resource it is to call everything witchcraft which appears mysterious to their minds."

"I don't like cats!" said Agnes. "I think they are treacherous, deceitful creatures. You never know what they are going to do. You may be playing with them as peaceably as possible, and the first thing you know up comes a paw, and you get a great scratch."

"I do not blame any cat for scratching you, Agnes," said Dora. "You are always teasing them."

"They are often teased unintentionally by those who play with them," said Miss Fanny. "Cats are nervous creatures, and are frequently annoyed by having their fur stroked the wrong way, and their ears pulled. You may have observed with regard to yourself, that turning your hair in a new direction will often make your head very sore and uncomfortable."

"I have," murmured a little girl, whose long and thick hair was very elaborately curled and braided. "I have often wished I hadn't any."

"Then you may appreciate the feelings of a cat under the same circumstances, Adeline," replied Miss Fanny, smiling.

"I have often rubbed up our cat's fur to see the sparks fly out, but I never thought of its hurting her," said Minnie. "I remember now he never seemed to like it much, though he never scratched in his life. And, Miss Fanny, he can open any door in the house, even one with a round handle. He always comes up and opens mother's door in the morning, and then goes down to breakfast with her."

"Aunt had a more knowing cat than that," remarked Tessy. "She used to catch fish in the lake, and bring them up to the house. She once caught a pike that weighed two pounds. She used to lie on a stone a little way out from the bank to watch, and when she saw a fish coming, she would knock it out of the water with her paw. At first we thought she must steal them somewhere, but after a while we watched her, and saw how she managed."

"She was a clever cat," said Miss Fanny. "It was the more remarkable, as cats have usually such a great dislike to wetting their feet. We had a cat, when we lived in the country, that used to go out shooting. I do not mean that she actually used the gun with her own paws," she hastened to add, anticipating the exclamations of her auditors, "but she used to accompany my brother, and seemed to enjoy the sport amazingly. We had a great abundance of early cherries, and were in consequence very much annoyed by the legions of cherry-birds, which made their appearance with the first May Dukes, and never left a perfect cherry on the tree. Scarecrows, bells, and other devices were tried to no effect, and at last it became necessary to shoot them. The slaughter was very great for two or three days. Lupa soon comprehended the use of the gun, and as soon as my brother took up his fowling-piece, she was on the alert. She would follow close behind him, and stop when he did, crouching to the ground. The moment he fired, she would spring forward, and she almost invariably caught the bird before it came to the earth. As the game was abundant and my brother a capital marksman, Lupa soon became very fat, and grew indifferent to this kind of fare, after which she would amuse herself by dragging the dead birds together and piling them up in heaps. This same old cat would drink wine and even brandy, and was very fond of strong coffee, but she disliked milk, and would take cold water in preference."

"Tody likes tea," said Marian; "mother gives him some almost every night after she has finished her own, but Tabby never would touch it. Oh, I am so glad we have found out what has become of Tabby! But perhaps you would like to keep her, Theresa?" she added, seeing or fancying a shade upon Tessy's countenance.

"Oh no!" replied Tessy. "You know I am going to school after New Year, and I would rather you had her than not, since she belonged to you in the first place."

The children's conversation was here interrupted by a call to supper, which was bountiful and excellent, of course. Among the other beauties of the table was a basket of nicely frosted cakes, each ornamented with coloured sugar-plums, disposed in the form of a letter, there being one for each little guest. Thus there was an "M" for Minnie, an "E" for Emily, and a "T" for Theresa, and so on through the whole list. Now it so happened that by some mistake there was only one "A" among them, and the basket being passed first to Adeline, she took it as a matter of course, so that when Agnes Warrington's turn came there was none for her. Miss Fanny was very sorry, and looked again and again, but no other "A" was to be found. Agnes looked very much displeased indeed, and her anger would have found vent in something besides words if no older persons had been present, but Mrs. Merriam and the young ladies were in the room, and she did not exactly like to give way to her temper before them.

"I will give Agnes mine," said little Virginia Haskall, Ella's cousin. "If you turn the 'V' upside down, it will do very well for an 'A,' and cousin Fanny will make me one some other time."

Fanny looked at Agnes, expecting to see her at once decline the offer, but Agnes did nothing of the kind. She simply accepted it as a matter of course, and soon disposed of it, without even thanking the generous donor.

"Well, I would be ashamed to do that, any way!" said Adeline to her next neighbour. "She might have had mine and welcome, only I wanted to carry it to my little brother Albert, who has broken his leg, you know. I thought it would please him, but I would rather have given it to Agnes than have had dear little Virginia robbed of hers. I never heard anything so mean—a little thing not six years old, and Agnes is thirteen."

Adeline spoke in a whisper, but Agnes overheard her, and her already ruffled temper was still farther provoked. She would not join in any of the games after supper, objecting to everything proposed, and conducting herself so rudely that Tessy and Barbara were extremely mortified, and the latter resolved she would never go out with her again.

"Well, girls, have you had a pleasant party?" asked Mrs. Warrington, who was sitting in the parlour when they arrived at home.

"No," replied Agnes, snatching at the first word. "It was the dullest, stupidest thing I ever saw, and the supper was miserable. There was not half enough to go round."

"O Agnes!" exclaimed Tessy and Dora together, and Dora continued: "You only say that because you did not get one of the lettered cakes, though you did too, for Virginia gave you hers. I should have been ashamed to take it if I had been you."

"And only think, mother," continued Agnes, unheeding her sister's words, "that kitten is Ella Merriam's, and she is going to send for it. She told Tessy she might keep it if she liked, but Miss Tessy said she would rather they had it again as she was going to school, and she could not trust it with any of us."

This was no careless exaggeration on Agnes's part, but a deliberate lie. She knew perfectly well what her cousin had said, but she was very angry with her for disregarding her signals for silence when the kitten was first mentioned, and she was determined to have her revenge.

Mrs. Warrington turned to Theresa with a look of great displeasure, but Barbara interposed before she had time to speak.

"That is not true, mother! Ella asked Theresa if she would like to keep the kitten though they were plainly very anxious to have her back again, and she answered that as she was going to school after the holidays, she would rather the kitten were back at her own home. The word 'trust' was neither spoken nor implied, and Agnes has drawn upon her imagination for her facts. All the other children seemed to enjoy the evening very much, and so I think would Agnes have done, if she had taken the pains to behave like a lady."

She then informed her mother of Agnes's conduct. Mrs. Warrington was for once seriously angry. She knew from experience that Barbara's account was perfectly to be relied on, and she was very much annoyed that Agnes should have made such a display in the house of Mrs. Merriam, whom she respected more than almost any other friend she had. Almost for the first time in her life, she reproved Agnes severely, and declared she would not suffer her to go to another party during the holidays. Agnes went away crying, very angry at her sister, and determined to be revenged upon Theresa, whom she most unjustly regarded as the cause of her disgrace.

The next day was bright and clear, though cold, and as usual all the family went to church, except Agnes, who declared she had such a headache that she could hardly keep her eyes open. Mrs. Warrington admitted the excuse the more readily as she was quite hoarse, and seemed to have symptoms of a severe cold. So she was left at home on the sofa in the drawing-room with Tabby for company, and a pile of new books for amusement, her mother charging her upon no account to expose herself to the cold air.

[Illustration: She threw her into the snow.]

No sooner had the bells stopped ringing than Agnes turned her feet off the sofa where she had been lying, and opening the parlour door, looked out into the hall and listened. She saw no one, and heard nothing except a distant sound of beating eggs and pounding down in the kitchen. All the servants had gone to church, except the cook and her assistant, who were busily engaged in the preparations for the Christmas dinner. The time was a favourable one for accomplishing her purpose.

In another moment, Tabby, who was lying peacefully before the fire, washing her face and paws and thinking of home, felt herself rudely snatched up and wrapped in an apron. Without stopping to put on bonnet or overshoes, Agnes ran down stairs, out of the back door, and down a lane, which led past the back of the barn. She went on through the deep snow, without heeding the cold wind, till she came to a large piece of unenclosed ground at some distance from the house, when, thinking she had gone far enough, she unrolled her apron, and taking poor frightened Tabby by the back of the neck, she hurled her from her as far as she could into the snow. Then without stopping to see what had become of the poor kitten, she ran home again as fast as she could go and slipped into the house, congratulating herself upon having accomplished her purpose unseen.