Part 6

After staying up in the poplar tree awhile, I concluded to go in, but the doors were all shut, and the house was dark. I called at the kitchen door, but nobody heard me, so I crawled into a soap box in which I found an old blanket, put there for me, no doubt, by my thoughtful mistress. But for some reason or other I could not get that dreadful dissecting story off my mind, and while I sat in my box thinking about it, I saw an old black cat,--not Jack--come along on the fence ledge and descend into my yard. I jumped up immediately and asked him what business he had prowling around in my yard at that time of night.

“I am looking for you,” said he, “and I want you to go with me to visit a friend down by the railroad.”

On the whole the cat had quite a distinguished appearance, and I must say I felt somewhat flattered by his attention. Besides that, he was so polite and kind, and I so lonely. Well, to make a long story short, I accepted his invitation.

My companion said we must hurry, as it was a long distance, so we started on our journey at once. We walked to the end of Poplar Avenue, farther than I had walked before in all my life; then we crossed several railroad tracks, and for a short distance we went on the top of a fence inclosing a beautiful yard with trees and shrubs and flowers. Quite a distance from the fence stood a large white mansion, and there my companion alighted and bade me follow him.

“Here is where my friend lives,” said he, “and his name is Cæsar Augustus Napoleon, so you can imagine he is no ordinary cat.”

I felt very proud to think I should soon meet such a distinguished cat, but we had not gone many steps when a very loud bark frightened me, and I saw an enormous bulldog come toward us. I retraced my steps to the fence, and ran away as fast as I could. But I must have gone the wrong way, for I could not find the railroad tracks which we had crossed.

When I had gone far enough to be out of the dog’s reach, I rested for a few minutes, and bethought me what to do. A short distance from the fence was another beautiful mansion, and it looked so inviting in the clear moonlight, I went over on the porch and sat upon the door-mat. There was no dog around to frighten me, so I rested quietly, and was just about ready to doze off into a nap when my black companion came along, limping on three legs, his head bleeding, and one of his eyes completely closed. He had traced me to the porch, and came up and sat down beside me, but said nothing--goodness me, what could he say?--and as I was very tired, I soon fell asleep. When I awoke he had gone, and I felt I was very fortunate to be rid of him, for was he not the cause of all my trouble?

Sad and strange thoughts passed through my mind on that unhappy morning, and I could only hope that the “Kind Providence” that I had so often heard mistress tell about, would be good enough to help even a poor little homeless cat like me.

I stayed on the porch all night, lonely, and shivering with cold. I, who had always been used to sleeping on a nice soft pad or cushion even in the house, there on that cold night had to sleep outdoors on a straw mat. But we must expect sorrow and shame for disobedience. After all my greatest sorrow was caused by the thought of how dreadfully my dear mistress would feel in the morning at not finding me.

If only the dear children who read this story would take warning from my sad experience, and never disobey their parents, I could feel that some good had come out of my great sorrow.

XVII

THE KIND PROVIDENCE

When it was morning, a man came out of the stable door back of the mansion and began sweeping the walks. I started to go away when he came near me, but he called to me in such a kind way, I lingered, though half afraid, for a few moments.

Instead of sweeping the porch where I was sitting, he passed by, only sweeping the steps, talking gently to me as he went along. I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was a kind-hearted man, and when he returned, I followed him into the stable.

There I saw four beautiful horses, each in a clean large stall, and they all looked so happy and self-respecting. One was much darker than the others, and I wondered whether possibly he was the “Black Beauty” I had heard so much about. The man then began to brush and comb the horses, talking to them, and whistling and singing part of the time. When he had finished, he gave them their breakfast of oats and hay. During all this time I sat contentedly in a corner under the manger, quite forgetful of the unhappy night I had passed.

After a while a boy, about Guy’s age and with just such blond, bushy hair, came into the stable, followed by an enormous white and yellow St. Bernard. I was terribly frightened when I saw the dog, but I didn’t let him know it; it isn’t a cat’s way, you know. In a jiffy my back went up, and my tail took on the shape of a jug handle. But the dog didn’t pay a bit of attention to me. He lay down calmly and quietly, and in such a dignified manner. I said to myself “here is a real gentleman.” Gradually I moved a little closer to him, and lay down also. The boy then came over to where I was and said: “Why, kitty, what is your name?”

I said “Meow.”

But he evidently did not understand me, for after a while he said, “Come, Tommie, and see my sister,” and he took me up in his arms and carried me into the house.

There I found a beautiful young lady by the name of Miss Dorothy. She had laughing blue eyes and long golden hair, which hung down her back in a graceful braid, tied at the end with a blue ribbon. There was also Mr. Banks her father, and Miss Beggs, the housekeeper. Arthur--that’s the boy’s name--set me down by the side of his sister, and told her where he had found me.

I am very thankful to the kind Providence that put it into his heart to love animals and to show kindness to a poor little homeless cat like me.

Miss Dorothy took me to the bathroom, where she sponged off my coat and wiped it dry with a towel. Then she gave me a good combing, and tied a fresh ribbon around my neck, for the one that I had on was all soiled and ragged. She did not like the name Tommie, so she called me Tootsie, a name which I trust I never dishonored, during the short time I bore it. Miss Dorothy also put a soft silken cushion at the foot of her bed, and that was my “corner” during all the time I stayed with her.

But my new ribbon came very near causing me serious trouble. Miss Dorothy had tied it so loosely that it was quite uncomfortable. I tried to slip it over my head, and in so doing my lower jaw became caught in it, and I was unable to close my mouth. The worst of it all was, my jaw was caught in such a way that I could not make an outcry or give any alarm. I just tumbled over and over myself in my frantic effort to get the troublesome thing off, and Miss Dorothy looked on, evidently thinking I was playing. Finally I just sank down, exhausted, and then she noticed my trouble, and with the scissors quickly cut the ribbon. After that she tied it more carefully.

I happened to be in the dining-room one day when they were arranging the dinner-table, and as four chairs were placed when there were but three persons to sit down, I concluded that the fourth was for me; so I jumped up next to Miss Dorothy. She seemed very much pleased, and welcomed me with a pat on my back; but Mr. Banks frowned, and said I must not be allowed such liberties. At this Miss Beggs offered to take me out of the room, but Miss Dorothy begged so hard for me to be allowed to stay, Mr. Banks finally consented, saying that if I continued to behave as well as I had so far, he would not object.

“She is no common cat,” said Arthur; “she acts as if she were accustomed to sitting at the table.”

Miss Dorothy gave me a loving look and said, “You are a treasure, Toots.”

Before the meal was quite finished, “Dr. Fogg” was announced, and Miss Dorothy arose from the table saying that she was expecting him for dinner.

Miss Beggs then took me up-stairs, but after dinner I went down to the library, and spent a very pleasant evening with Dr. Fogg and Miss Dorothy.

I had given myself such a vigorous scrubbing while up-stairs that my fur was stuck together in little tufts all over my body; but Miss Dorothy picked me up and smoothed it all out, and put a pretty fresh ribbon around my neck.

Then Dr. Fogg took me for a while, and after he had looked me all over he said I was a good healthy cat.

“How can you tell?” said Miss Dorothy.

“Because her nostrils are cold and moist,” was the reply. “A sick or famished cat has dry, hot nostrils. This cat also has many good points,” added the doctor: “short nose, short thick tail, short round ears and soft silken fur.”

“You are a lover of cats, I take it, or you would not be so well versed in cat-lore,” said Miss Dorothy, with evident pleasure.

“You would think so if you could see my Remus,” replied the doctor, the while gently stroking my back. “I wouldn’t part with him for a fortune. Better than any medicine to a restless overworked mind is a sleek healthy cat for a bed-fellow, for the electricity with which his fur is charged will induce sleep when all other means fail.”

“How perfectly wonderful,” said Miss Dorothy. “I must get one for papa. Where did you get Remus?”

“Remus,” said the doctor, “was one of a pair of black kittens that belonged to old Black Betty at the college. Betty had the mange several times, but the students always cured her by rubbing her sores with a mixture of lard and sulphur, which she would immediately lick off. During her last attack, however, she seemed to have a presentiment that her hour had come. One morning, while my father was lecturing to the students, Betty brought in one of her kittens, laid it at his feet, looked up into his face and mewed. Then she went and fetched the other, and repeated the same action, after which she returned to her basket, and ten minutes later the janitor found her dead. Father regarded those kittens as a sacred trust, and insisted that both be kept in our house; so sister appropriated one, and I the other; and this is how I came into possession of Remus.”

When the doctor began to talk about the things that they did at the college, I expected to hear quite a different story. I am glad now to know that they do some other things for cats in colleges besides dissecting them.

“By the way,” said Miss Dorothy, “I read in to-day’s paper that in some place where diphtheria is raging, all the cats have been killed because it is supposed that they spread the disease. And in another place where the smallpox has broken out, the health officer proposes that it is necessary to kill off all the stray and homeless cats and dogs before the disease can be stamped out. What do you think of that?”

“Nonsense,” said the doctor. “Everything that lives, from a fly to an elephant, is liable to carry germs, and one of the most prolific conductors of germs is the rat; so you see that even the persecuted alley cat has a reason for her existence. Indeed, the congested districts of a large city would be uninhabitable, and we would see the scenes of the famous mouse tower enacted over again, were it not for the services of this much maligned and misunderstood creature.”

“It seems to me,” said Miss Dorothy, “if there were anything in this theory about cats and dogs spreading smallpox, for instance, they would themselves be subject to the disease. But whoever heard of a cat or dog dying of smallpox, or even being afflicted with it?”

“I am sure I never did,” replied the doctor.

As for me, the things to which I had been listening filled me with astonishment and indignation, and I retired to my corner on Miss Dorothy’s bed to think matters over. Would that there were more such kind-hearted people to speak for the defenseless as Miss Dorothy and the doctor.

But I must return to my story. Bernie, the dog, was a noble, dignified animal, and not the least bit jealous of the attention that was being paid to me. Often when I was out in the yard, he would invite me to lie beside him in the sunshine, and when I did so he would put his head down close to mine and look into my eyes, just as if he wanted to tell me something real nice. His coat was always clean and fluffy, because he had a bath regularly once a week, and his “corner” was in the rear hall, where he had a white fur rug for his resting-place. But he spent most of his time outside with Arthur and the coachman.

During the first day or two at Miss Dorothy’s I really suffered hunger, although I was in the midst of plenty, for the cook never thought of giving me a morsel of anything. She would throw the nicest tidbits of meat and fish that came from the table right into the garbage can, and let me hunt for food the best way I could. Of course, I was not used to eating out of garbage cans, and really, I’d starve rather than do such a vulgar thing. After a few days of such scanty fare as I could get by catching flies and grasshoppers, I jumped up on the pantry table one morning to see if I couldn’t find something more substantial, and what should I see there but a great big fish. I grabbed him by the tail and jumped down, but the fish got to the floor before I did. I then took hold of him and pulled him over to the cellar door, and was just starting down the stairs to take him to a quiet place, where I could have my feast undisturbed, when the cook came in.

“Faith an’ I knowed all the time ye was a thief,” said she, jerking my treasure away from me; and then she called Miss Dorothy in to see what her new pet was up to. Miss Dorothy took me up in her arms, but did not say one unpleasant word to me. She knew that no respectable cat would steal, unless actually driven to it. She asked the cook when I was last fed, and upon learning that no one had paid any attention to me in the way of food, she told Miss Beggs to see that I was properly cared for at every meal thereafter, and after that I fared better. Miss Beggs would gather up the choicest little remnants of meat or chicken or fish on the plates, and mix them with a little mashed potato or rice in such a way that it made the daintiest meal for me.

So you see the kind Providence did take care of me, even though I am only a cat.

XVIII

A WELCOME VISITOR

Miss Dorothy had many lovely neighbors, but the one I liked best of all was Mrs. Stevens. One day when the two ladies were visiting, I happened to be in the room, and Miss Dorothy told Mrs. Stevens how I had come to her a homeless little stranger. Mrs. Stevens said that her children had been wanting a little kitty for a long time, but that she had never allowed them to have one till Mrs. Cotton persuaded her to do so.

When I heard the name of Mrs. Cotton, I was so overjoyed, I jumped on the floor and turned several somersaults, and Mrs. Stevens laughed heartily at my antics.

One day while napping on my cushion, I was awakened by a familiar voice in Miss Dorothy’s room. It was a lady, and she asked Miss Dorothy if she could take charge of the Band of Mercy for a while, as Miss Wallace the leader, had been called away.

Of course having heard the story of Beautiful Joe, I know all about the Band of Mercy. It is a place where little boys and girls sing and speak lovely pieces. Here is one I heard Guy read to his mother from “Dumb Animals:”

Three little kittens, so downy and soft, Were cuddled up by the fire, And two little children were sleeping aloft, As cozy as heart could desire; Dreaming of something ever so nice, Dolls and sugar-plums, rats and mice.

The night wore on, and the mistress said, “I’m sleepy, I must confess, And as kitties and babies are safe in bed, I’ll go to bed too, I guess.” She went up-stairs, just a story higher, While the kittens slept by the kitchen fire.

“What noise can that be?” the mistress said. “Meow! meow!” “I’m afraid A poor kitty-cat’s fallen out of bed! The nice little nest I made!” “Meow! meow!” “Dear me! dear me! I wonder what can the matter be!”

The mistress paused on an upper stair, For, what did she see below? But three little kittens, with frightened air, Standing up in a row! With six little paws on the step above, And no mother cat to caress or love!

Through the kitchen door came a cloud of smoke! The mistress, in great alarm, To a sense of danger straightway awoke: Her babies might come to harm. On the kitchen hearth, to her great amaze, Was a basket of shavings beginning to blaze.

The three little kittens were hugged and kissed, And promised many a mouse; While their names were put upon honor’s list, For hadn’t they saved a house? And two little children were gathered tight To their mother’s heart ere she slept that night.

The mention of the Band of Mercy brought to my mind little Willie Cotton, and instantly it dawned upon me that the strange lady was Willie’s mother. Mrs. Cotton carried a bunch of delicious sweet violets, as usual.

“I will be most happy to do anything I can for Miss Wallace,” said Miss Dorothy, “and if you think I am able to lead the Band, it will give me great pleasure to do so.”

While Miss Dorothy was speaking I got up from my cushion, and jumped into her lap, but Mrs. Cotton did not seem to notice me at all; she was so interested in the Band of Mercy. Then, although I knew it was very rude to do so, I jumped over on Mrs. Cotton’s lap. I felt that I must in some way attract her attention. Mrs. Cotton petted me a little, so I climbed up to her face and kissed her nose. At this Mrs. Cotton seemed to take alarm. Perhaps she thought I was on the way up to her hat again; but I wasn’t, for the birdies had all flown away.

“What an affectionate little creature,” said she, holding me firmly in her lap. “Where did you get this cat?”

“She came to us a couple of weeks ago,” said Miss Dorothy, “and made herself so thoroughly agreeable that I have had her as my constant companion ever since.”

Mrs. Cotton looked at me more closely and said, “She looks like a cat that my neighbor, Mrs. Paxton has lost, and she has been very unhappy over it; only a few days ago she said she still hoped to find her again.”

Miss Dorothy looked very sad. “Is there any way by which you could prove that this is Mrs. Paxton’s cat?” said she, “for, if she is, I want to return her.”

Mrs. Cotton put her hand to her forehead evidently trying to recall my name, when I cried out “meow.”

“Oh, ‘Meow’! that was the cat’s name. Meow! Meow!”

At the sound of my name I could hardly contain myself. I kissed Mrs. Cotton’s cheek many times, and then, seeing Miss Dorothy looked sad, I went over and kissed her too.

“I believe you are right,” said Miss Dorothy, “and if Tootsie belongs to Mrs. Paxton, she shall have her back. I named her after Miss Willard’s cat because she seemed so well-bred and so dignified.”

“Mrs. Paxton will be delighted to see you,” said Mrs. Cotton, “for I feel quite sure that this is her cat.”

“We shall all be very sorry to give her up,” said Miss Dorothy, as she accompanied Mrs. Cotton to the door.

At the dinner-table Miss Dorothy told her father and Arthur what Mrs. Cotton had told her.

“There is only one thing to do, daughter,” said Mr. Banks.

“Yes,” said Miss Dorothy, “I am going to take her over to-day.”

Then I knew that that would be my last day at Miss Dorothy’s, and wishing to give my dear mistress all the pleasure I could, I immediately set to washing myself and smoothing my fur.

To be sure I felt sad to leave my new friends who had been so very kind to me, still I was overjoyed thinking of the happiness it would give my mistress to find me again.

XIX

A JOYFUL REUNION

Soon after dinner that same day the carriage drove up to the side entrance, and Miss Dorothy wrapped me in a small blanket and took me away with her.

She held me on her lap all the way and said loving words, telling me how she would miss me if I belonged to the other lady. My head was out of the blanket so I could see where we were going.

After a short drive on a beautiful avenue we turned down a quiet side street, and there, to my great delight, I saw the long row of poplar trees so dear to me. They seemed like so many old friends, standing there to welcome me home. Another familiar sight was Eddie riding his velocipede, and when next I saw Jack seated on his window-sill, I knew that we must be getting close to Number 127.