"Where did you live before?" the black kitten said.
A dreamy look came into the brindled cat's eyes.
"In many strange places," she answered slowly; adding more briskly, "andif you will be good kittens, I will tell you all about them. Goldie!come down from that stool, and sit down like a good kitten. Sweep! leaveoff sharpening your claws on the furniture; _that_ always ends introuble and punishment. Snowball! you're asleep again! Oh, well; ifyou'd rather sleep than hear a story----"
Snowball shook herself awake, and the others sat down close to theirmother with their tails arranged neatly beside them, and waited for thestory.
"I was born," said the brindled cat, "in a barn."
"What is a barn?" asked the black kitten.
"A barn is like a house, but there is only one room, and no carpets,only straw."
"I should like that," said the yellow kitten, who often played among thestraw in the big box which brought groceries from the Stores.
"I liked it well enough when I was your age," said the motherindulgently, "but a barn is not at all a genteel place to be born in. Mymother had had a little unpleasantness with the family she lived with,and, of course, she was too proud to stay on after that. And so sheleft them, and went to live in the barn. It wasn't at all the sort oflife she had been accustomed to."
"What was the unpleasantness?" Sweep asked.
"Well, it was about some cream which the woman of the house wanted forher tea. She should have said so. Of course, my mother would not havetaken it if she had had any idea that any one else wanted it. She wasalways most unselfish."
"What is tea?"
"A kind of brown milk--very nasty indeed, and very bad for you. Well, Ilived with my brothers and sisters very happily for some months, for Iwas too young to know how vulgar it was to live in a barn and play withstraw."
"What is vulgar, mother?"
"Dear, dear; how you do ask questions," said the brindled cat, beginningto look worried. "Vulgar is being like everybody else."
"But does everybody else live in a barn?"
"No; nobody does who is respectable. Vulgar really means--not likerespectable cats."
"Oh!" said the black kitten and the yellow, trying to look as if theyunderstood. But the white one did not say anything, because it had goneto sleep again.
"Well," the mother went on, "after a while they took me to live in thefarm-house. And I should have liked it well enough, only they had a lowhabit of locking up the dairy and the pantry. Well, it would be tiresometo go into the whole story; however, I soon finished my life at thefarm-house and went to live in the stable. It was very pleasant there.Horses are excellent company. That was my third life. My fourth was atthe miller's. He came one day to buy some corn; he saw me, and admiredme--as, indeed, every one has always done. He and the farmer weredisputing about the price of the corn, and at last the miller said--
"'Look here; you shall have your price if you'll throw me that cat intothe bargain.'"
The kittens all shuddered. "What is a bargain? Is it like a pond? Andwere you thrown in?"
"I was thrown in, I believe. But a bargain is not like a pond; though Iheard the two men talk of 'wetting' the bargain. But I suppose they didnot do it, for I arrived at the mill quite dry. That was a very pleasantlife--full of mice!"
"Who was full of mice?" asked the white kitten, waking up for a moment.
"I was," said the mother sharply; "and I should have stayed in the millfor ever, but the miller had another cat sent him by his sister.
"However, he gave me away to a man who worked a barge up and down theriver. I suppose he thought he should like to see me again sometimes asthe barge passed by.
"Life in a barge is very exciting. There are such lots of rats, some ofthem as big as you kittens. I got quite clever at catching them, thoughsometimes they made a very good fight for it. I used to have plenty ofmilk, and I slept with the bargee in his warm little bunk, and of nightsI sat and toasted myself in front of his fire in the small, cosy cabin.He was very fond of me, and used to talk to me a great deal. It is solonely on a barge that you are glad of a little conversation. He wasvery kind to me, and I was very grieved when he married a lady whodidn't like cats, and who chased me out of the barge with a barge-pole."
"What is a barge-pole?" the yellow kitten asked lazily.
"The only leg a barge has. I ran away into the woods, and there I livedon birds and rabbits."
"What are rabbits?"
"Something like cats with long ears; very wholesome and nutritious. AndI should have liked my sixth life very much, but for the keeper. No,don't interrupt to ask what a keeper is. He is a man who, when he meetsa cat or a rabbit, points a gun at it, and says 'Bang!' so loud that youdie of fright."
"How horrible!" said all the kittens.
"I was looking out for my seventh life, and also for the gamekeeper, andwas sitting by the river with both eyes and both ears open, when alittle girl came by--a nice little girl in a checked pinafore.
"She stopped when she saw me, and called--'Pussy! pussy!' So I went veryslowly to her, and rubbed myself against her legs. Then she picked me upand carried me home in the checked pinafore. My seventh life was spentin a clean little cottage with this little girl and her mother. She wasvery fond of me, and I was as fond of her as a cat can be of a humanbeing. Of course, we are never so _unreasonably_ fond of them as theyare of us."
"Why not?" asked the yellow kitten, who was young and affectionate.
"Because they're only human beings, and we are Cats," returned themother, turning her large, calm green eyes on Goldie, who said, "Oh!"and no more.
"Well, what happened then?" asked the black kitten, catching itsmother's eye.
"Well, one day the little girl put me into a basket, and carried me out.I was always a fine figure of a cat, and I must have been a good weightto carry. Several times she opened the basket to kiss and stroke me. Thelast time she did it we were in a room where a sick girl lay on a bed.
"'I did not know what to bring you for your birthday,' said my littlegirl, 'so I've brought you my dear pussy.'
"The sick girl's eyes sparkled with delight. She took me in her arms andstroked me. And though I do not like sick people, I felt flattered andpleased. But I only stayed a very little time with her."
"Why?" asked all the kittens at once.
"Because----but no; that story's too sad for you children; I will tellit you when you're older."
"But that only makes eight lives," said Sweep, who had been counting onhis claws, "and you said you had nine. Which was the ninth?"
"Why, _this_, you silly child," said the brindled pussy, sitting up, andbeginning to wash the kitten's face very hard indeed. "And as it's mylast life, I must be very careful of it. That's why I'm so particularabout what I eat and drink, and why I make a point of sleeping so manyhours a-day. But it's your _first_ life, Snowball, and I can't have youwasting it all in sleep. Go and catch a mouse at once."
"Yes, mamma," said Snowball, and went to sleep again immediately.
"Ah!" said Mrs. Brindle, "I'll wash you next. That'll make you wake up,my dear."
"Snowball's always sleepy," said the yellow kitten, stretching itself."But, mamma dear, she doesn't care for history, and yours was a verylong tale."
"You can't have too much of a good thing," said the mother, looking downat her long brindled tail. "If it's a good tail, the longer it is thebetter."
Doggy Tales
Tinker
MY name is Stumps, and my mistress is rather a nice little girl; but shehas her faults, like most people. I myself, as it happens, amwonderfully free from faults. Among my mistress's faults is what I maycall a lack of dignity, joined to a desire to make other peopleundignified too.
You will hardly believe that, before I had belonged to her a month, shehad made me learn to dance and to jump. I am a very respectabledachshund, of cobby build, and jumping is the very last exercise Ishould have taken to of my own accord. But when Miss Daisy said, "Nowjump, Stum
ps; there's a darling!" and held out her little arms, I couldnot well refuse. For, after all, the child is my mistress.
I never could understand why the cat was not taught to dance. It seemedto me very hard that, when I was having those long, miserable lessons,the cat should be allowed to sit down doing nothing but smile at mymisfortunes. Trap always said we ought to feel honoured by being taught,and the reason why Pussy wasn't asked to learn was because she was sodreadfully stupid, and had no brains for anything but the pleasures ofthe chase and the cares of a family; but I didn't think that could bethe reason, because the doll was _taught_ to dance, though she never_learned_, and I am sure _she_ was stupid enough.
Another thing which Miss Daisy taught me to do was to beg; and theaction fills me with shame and pain every time I perform it, and as theyears go on I hate it more and more.
For a stout, middle-aged dog, the action is absurd and degrading. Yet,such is the force of habit, that I go through the performance now quitenaturally whenever I want anything. Trap does it too, and says what doesit matter? but then he has no judgment, and, besides, he's thin.
But one of the most thoughtless things my little mistress ever did wasone day last summer when she was out without me. I chose to stay at homebecause it was very hot, and I knew that the roads would be dusty; andshe was only going down to the village shop, where no one ever thinksof offering a dog anything to drink. If she had been going to the farm,I should have gone with her, because the lady there shows properattention to visitors, and always sets down a nice dish of milk for usdogs. Besides, I was a little unwell just then; the family had had duckfor dinner, and I always feel a little faint after duck. All our familydo. So I stayed at home. Well, Miss Daisy had gone out with only Trapand her hoop. I wish I had been there, for Trap is far too easy-going,and a hoop never gives any advice worth listening to. Trap told me allabout it as well as he could. Trap can't tell a story very well, poorfellow!
It seems that, as Miss Daisy went across the village green, she saw acrowd of children running after a dog with--I hardly like to mentionsuch a thing--a tin saucepan tied to his tail! The dog bolted into theempty dog-kennel by the blacksmith's shop, and stayed there, growling.
"Go away, bad children," said Miss Daisy; "how dare you treat a poordear doggie so?"
The children wouldn't go away at first. "Very well," said Miss Daisy; "Ishall tell Trap what I think of you all."
Then she whispered to Trap, and he began to growl so fiercely that thechildren dared not come nearer. Any one can growl. Presently thechildren got tired of listening to him, and went away. Then Miss Daisycoaxed the unpleasant, tin-tailed creature out of the kennel, and untiedthe string, and took off the pan. Then, if you'll believe a dog of mycharacter (and of course you must), she carried that low dog home in herarms, and washed him, and set him down to eat out of the same plate asTrap and myself! Trap was friends with him directly--some people haveno spirit--but I hope I know my duty to myself too well for that. Isnarled at the base intruder till he was quite ashamed of himself. Iknew from the first that he'd be taught jumping and begging, and thingslike that. I hate those things myself, but that's no reason why everylow dog should be taught them. Miss Daisy called him Tinker, because heonce carried a tin pan about with him, and she tried very hard to makeme friendly to him; but I can choose my own friends, I hope.
Every one made a great fuss about one thing he did, but actually it wasnothing but biting; and if biting isn't natural to a dog, I should liketo know what is; and why people should be praised and petted, and havenew collars, and everybody else's share of the bones, only for doingwhat is quite natural to them, I have never been able to comprehend.Besides, barking is as good as biting, any day, and I'm sure I barkedenough, though it wasn't my business.
Miss Daisy had gone away to stay with her cousins in London, and she hadtaken Trap with her. Why she should have taken him instead of me is amatter on which I can offer no opinion. If my opinion had been asked, Ishould have said that I thought it more suitable for her to have a heavymiddle-aged dog of good manners than a harum-scarum young stripling likeTrap. Trap told me afterwards that he thought the reason he was takenwas because Miss Daisy would have had more to pay for the dog-ticket ofsuch a heavy dog as I am; but I can't believe that dogs are charged forby the weight, like butter. As I was saying, Miss Daisy took Trap withher, and also her father and mother; and Tinker and I were left to takecare of the servants. We had a very agreeable time, though I confessthat I missed Miss Daisy more than I would have believed possible. Butthere was more to eat in the kitchen than usual, and the servants oftenleft things on the table when they went out to take in the milk or tochat with the gardeners; and if people leave things on tables, they haveonly themselves to thank for whatever happens.
There was a young man who wore a fur cap, and who used to call withfish; and I was more surprised than I care to own when I met him walkingout with cook one Sunday afternoon, for I thought she had a soul abovefish; yet when the servants began to ask this young man to tea in thekitchen, I thought, of course, it must be all right, but Tinker would donothing but growl the whole time the young man was there; so that atlast cook had to lock us up in the butler's pantry till the young manwas gone. _I_ had not growled, but I was locked in too. The world isfull of injustice and ingratitude.
Now one night, when the servants went to bed, Tinker and I lay down inour baskets under the hall table as usual; but Tinker was dreadfullyrestless, which must have been only an accident, because he said himselfhe didn't know what was the matter with him; and he would not go tosleep, but kept walking up and down as if he were going to hide a boneand couldn't find a good place for it.
"Do lie down, for goodness' sake, Tinker," I said, "and go to sleep. Anyone can see you have not been brought up in a house where regular hoursare kept."
"I can't go to sleep; I don't know what's the matter with me," he saidgloomily.
Well, I tried to go to sleep myself, and I think I must almost havedropped off, when I heard a scrape-scraping from the butler's pantry. Iwasn't going to bark. It wasn't my business. I have often heard MissDaisy's relations say that I was no house-dog. Still, I think Tinkerought to have barked then, but he didn't: only just pricked his ears andhis tail; and he waited, and the scraping went on.
Then Tinker said to me--"Don't you make a noise, for your life; I amgoing to see what it is;" and he trotted softly into the butler'spantry. It was rather dark, but you know we dogs can see as well as catsin the dark, although they do make such a fuss about it, and declarethat they are the only creatures who can.
There was a man outside the window, and I tapped Tinker with my tail toshow him that he ought to bark, but he never moved. The man had beenscraping and scraping till he had got out one of the window-panes. Itwas a very little window-pane, only just big enough for his hand to gothrough; and the man took out the window-pane and put his hand through,making a long arm to get at the fastening of the window; and just as hewas going to undo the hasp, Tinker made a spring on to the window-ledge,and he caught the man's hand in his mouth, and the man gave a push, andTinker fell off the window-ledge, but he took the man's hand with him;and there was the man's arm dragged through the window-pane, and Tinkerhanging on to his fingers.
The man broke some more panes and tried to get his other hand through,and if he had he would have done for Tinker, but he could not manage it;and now I thought "This is the time to bark," and I barked. I barked mybest, I barked nobly, though I am not a house-dog, and I don't thinkit's my business.
In less than a minute down came the gardener and the under-gardener: andTinker was still holding on, and they took the man, and he was marchedoff to prison, and it turned out to be the man in the fur cap. Butthough they made fuss enough about Tinker's share in the business, youmay be sure it didn't make me think much more of him.
I should never have had anything to say to him but for one thing. Earlyone morning we three dogs--it's all over long ago, and I hope I can begenerous and let bygones be bygon
es; he is one of _us_ now--went out fora run in the paddock by the wood, and while Trap and I were trotting upand down chatting about the weather, that Tinker dog bolted into thewood, and in less than a minute came out with a rabbit.
I saw at once that he could never get it eaten before Miss Daisy cameout, and I knew that, if he were found with it, his sufferings would beawful. So I helped him to eat it. I know my duty to a fellow-creature, Itrust. It was a very young rabbit, and tender. Not too much fur. Furgets in your throat, and spoils your teeth, besides. We had justfinished it when my mistress came out. Trap would not eat a bit, even tohelp Tinker out of his scrape, but _I_ have a kind heart.
Well, after that I thought I might as well consent to be friends withTinker, in spite of his low breeding. You see, I had helped him out of adreadful scrape, and one always feels kindly to people one has helped.He has caught several more rabbits since then, and I have always stoodby him on those occasions, and I always mean to. I am not one to turn myback on a friend, I believe.
So now he has a collar like ours, and I hardly feel degraded at all whenI sit opposite to him at the doll's tea-parties.
Rats!
"HE has no nose," said my master; "he is a handsome dog, but he has nonose."
This annoyed me very much, for I have a nose--a very long, sharp, blacknose. I wear tan boots and gloves, and my coat is a beautiful shinyblack.
I am a Manchester terrier, and I fulfil the old instructions for suchdogs. I am
_Necked like a drake,_ _Headed like a snake,_ _Tailed like a ratte,_ _And footed like a catte._