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Pussy Black-Face: The Story of a Kitten and Her Friends

<h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER VII A NEW SENSATION</h2></div> For a week I haven't thought about anything but my lame back and my aching sides and my stiff legs. I have been unable to move without pain. Every day Mary has lifted me off my chair, and has encouraged me to move about the room, and even to go out on the balcony and sit in the sun a little while, lest I should get too stiff to move. However, the effort until to-day has been very painful to me, and I soon mewed to be lifted back to my soft opera cloak. Mr. Denville had a cat doctor come to see me. She was a lovely woman with glasses on. She felt me all over, and looked at my tongue, and gave me some nice medicine to take, that had catnip in it. To-day I have been ever so much better, and this morning and this afternoon I have 102had a new sensation that has taken my thoughts off myself. It thrilled me at noon. Mary had carried me down-stairs to her papa's library, where he was sitting waiting for lunch to be served. Mrs. Denville was with him. She sat in a big green chair by the window, and the sunshine was streaming all over her brown head, and her good face, and her pretty light dress. “Harold,” she was saying to her husband as Mary entered the room, “this is a lovely day—spring will soon yield to summer.” “Yes,” he said, “it will. What arrangements do you wish to make for the summer?” “I don't know,” she said thoughtfully. “Did you enjoy yourself last year?” he asked keenly. Mrs. Denville smiled peculiarly, then she said, “I did, and I did not.” “It was sensible, wasn't it?” he said sarcastically. “That great hotel crammed with people. Everybody that we knew, and everybody that we didn't want to know. Every woman dressed to extravagance, and every 103man sulking in a stiff collar and tight fitting coat. Oh! those hotel verandas were bliss!” His wife laughed merrily. “Harold, I think our summers lately have been too much a repetition of our winters. That is, as far as society goes. I wish we could do something different.” “Would you like to go to Europe?” he asked. “And be seasick? No, thank you—but perhaps you would.” “Too far from business this year. Perhaps you would like to go yachting.” “Harold, I am getting to hate the water. There are so many accidents.” “What do you want to do, anyway?” “I want to go somewhere where I can wear an old gown, and lie in a hammock all day.” Little Mary was listening very intently to this conversation, and seeing her interest, I listened too. “I am tired from this winter's gaieties,” Mrs. Denville was saying, “and, in addition to that, a quieter place will be better for Mary.” 104“We will go to my old home up in Maine,” said Mr. Denville decidedly. “I have not spent a summer there since I was a boy, and you and Mary have never been there.” Mrs. Denville looked doubtful. “It is rather primitive, is it not?” she asked. Little Mary let me slip to the floor and walked toward her father. “Oh, dear papa, would you take us to the old farm-house?” He nodded his head. “And I could see the cows and the other things—I have never lived on a farm—oh, do let us go.” Just now the conversation began to appeal to me personally. This was talk about leaving Boston, the place I had been brought up in. What was going to become of me if the Denvilles went away? “Meow! meow!” I cried suggestively, and I crawled slowly to Mary's feet. She looked down at me. “If we go to the farm-house, I could take Black-Face, couldn't I?” Her father nodded again. 105“And Mona, and Slyboots, and Dolly, and the canaries?” pursued Mary in a delighted voice—“oh! how lovely. Hotel people are always so horrid about animals. Oh! Black-Face, what a lovely time we shall have,” and she caught me up, and walked slowly about the room. She never runs and skips as other little girls do. It hurts her back. “Black-Face,” she said suddenly, “wait here. I must, I just must go up-stairs, and tell nurse and Slyboots about this,” and she went as quickly as she could out into the hall. Mrs. Denville looked significantly at her husband. “Mary does not like hotel life.” He sighed heavily, and stared down at me, as I pressed up to his feet. “I did not dream last year,” Mrs. Denville went on in a low voice, “until the summer was over, what the poor child was going through. The attention she excited as being set apart from other children, the sympathy from strangers, though grateful to her, was afflicting. You see, she is getting older and more self-conscious.” 106“I knew it,” said Mr. Denville shortly. “Why did you not tell me, Harold?” asked his wife gently. “Why did not Mary tell you?” he asked. “Because,” she said earnestly, and the tears started in her eyes, “because she is so unselfish. Because you are both too mindful of my comfort. You make an egotist of me.” “Hush,” he replied, “Mary is coming back.” “Black-Face,” said Mary excitedly, when she reentered the room, “this is very wonderful news. I think I must go up and tell Mrs. Darley about it. Mamma, couldn't I be excused from lessons this afternoon? Really, I just feel boiling inside. If you knew how I have wanted to see the place where my papa was born! He has told me such lovely stories about it.” “Why did you not tell, me that you wished to go to Maine?” asked her mother reproachfully. “Because, mamma dear, I thought I might make you feel sorry. You see, you had to be 107born in a city, so I asked papa to tell me those stories only when we were alone.” “And when have you been so much alone?” asked the lady sharply. “When you were at teas, and lectures, and concerts, mamma, and making calls. You know you used to go more than you do now.” Mrs. Denville played with the rings on her fingers. I thought she looked sorry about something, so I went up to her, and crawling on the footstool beneath her feet, I managed to get on her lap. She bent over and stroked me, and then I saw that there were tears in her eyes. I licked her pretty fingers, but she found my tongue rough, and smiled and pushed me away. “And may I be excused from lessons, mamma?” asked Mary coming up to her. “It isn't that I don't want to study,” and my dear little mistress shook her head earnestly, “but really I feel so peculiar that I think if I don't get out somewhere I shall fly all to pieces.” “You are no shirk,” said her mother 108gently, and she put her arm round her, “you are an honest child. You need not explain. Certainly, you are excused from lessons. I will telephone to Miss Roberts—I will take you wherever you wish to go.” “Oh, thank you, thank you!” said Mary, and she caught her mother's hand and pressed it to her lips. At this moment Anthony appeared in the door announcing lunch, and they all went out together. All through the meal the little girl chattered about the country, and it was beautiful to see her parents' eyes resting on her. They said very little, but they answered all her questions. When we went up-stairs Mary had to go and lie down and not speak for one hour. This was her old nurse's decision, when she saw her flushed face. I felt flushed myself, but there was no one to make me lie down, so I gave way to my excitement and crept out in the hall. I absolutely had to talk to some one, so I thought I would try that queer Slyboots. 109Mary had made her a nice bed on the lounge, and she lay there looking like a gutter queen. She always wore a ribbon. Mary didn't put one on me, but she had to do something to give Slyboots distinction. “This is great news,” I said, going up to the head of the sofa. Slyboots gave me a disdainful glance, as if to say, “It doesn't take much to excite you.” “Were you ever in the country?” I inquired. “Nop,” she replied briefly. “Do you want to go?” “Nop.” “Will you run away when the time comes for you to be packed?” “Nop,” she said again. “Do you want to talk about it?” I went on eagerly. “Nop.” “Do you want me to go away?” “Yaw,” she said rudely, so I went. I made my way down-stairs, and out in the yard. Mona and Dolly would like to hear 110the good news, but bless me, they knew it already. Human tongues, and dog tongues, and cat tongues carry news like the wind. Anthony had heard Mr. and Mrs. Denville talking, and the table-maid had heard, and they had told the house-maid, and the house-maid had told the cook, and the cook had told the kitchen-maid, and Mona had overheard, and so she knew, and Dolly knew. However, the dogs were glad to get further details from me. Mona asked me first thing how I felt, and said that she had missed me during the last week. Then she wanted to know how Slyboots was behaving herself. “Beautifully,” I said. “She lets me alone, and I let her alone.” “That is the best way, when there is incompatibility of temper,” said Mona. “You absolutely can't get on with some creatures without quarrelling.” “Well, this is great news about the country, isn't it?” I remarked. “Glorious,” said Mona heartily. “I love the country.” 111“I have heard of Maine,” I said cautiously. “It is all country, isn't it? Now, what is the country like? You know I have never been off Beacon Hill.” “What do you imagine it is like?” she asked. “Something like the Common?” “Very like it. Suppose each house on Beacon Hill had a piece of land attached to it as large as the Common, and even much larger.” “Why, you couldn't see the cats in the next yard,” I replied in surprise. Mona opened her great mouth and laughed heartily. “Couldn't see them, nor hear them, nor the dogs either. But you'll have to go to the country, little cat, to see what it is like.” “What do you think about it, Dolly?” I asked, as she crept toward us. Dolly is the meekest, gentlest, most timid, oddest dog I ever saw. She is afraid of everything and everybody, and she never was whipped in her life. “Some ugly person must have spent all 112their time in beating her grandmother or grandfather,” Mona said to me one day, “for she is the most scared thing that walks the streets of Boston. Why, when Mr. or Mrs. Denville want her to go to walk, they have to spend about five minutes coaxing her to come out of her kennel.” To-day, when I asked her what she thought about going to the country, she looked perfectly terrified, and crept up to Mona for protection. “She is afraid of bears, and wolves, and foxes,” said Mona kindly. “The dog next door heard that we were going to Maine, and he has been stuffing her. He told her he knew a spaniel who went up there and came home inside a wildcat that his master had shot.” “How cruel!” I said indignantly. “There aren't any wild animals in Maine, are there, Mona?” “None to hurt—there now, Dolly, prick up your ears. See how brave this little cat is!” Dolly's nerves were too shaken to raise her 113long, silky ears, and she retreated into Mona's kennel. “She's got the quakes badly to-day,” said good old Mona with a shake of her head. “I'll have to stand guard here, till she gets over them.” “And I must go back to my young mistress,” I said, “for I think she will take me to see my parents to-day. Good-bye, Mona.” “Good-bye, Pussy,” she said. “Keep away from Slyboots. She's a solitary cat.” Mary did take me with her when she went to drive. Oh! what a strange time I had with my family! Let me think over what they said and I said. Slyboots did not drive with us. Mary wanted to take her, but she drew back. She had no reason to like the streets, and I was very glad to go without her. As soon as our carriage drew up in front of Mrs. Darley's, Mrs. Denville and Mary found that she was not at home. My heart sank, but to my great delight, little Mary said to her mother, “Mamma dear, let me leave Black-Face here with her 114parents, and we can call for her later. You will, won't you?” Mrs. Denville smiled. “Certainly, if you wish it, though I think it is an excess of sentiment.” Then she handed me to the foot-man, and he winked mischievously at Gerty who was holding the door open, and Gerty lifted me into the hall. An excess of sentiment!—I wish Mrs. Denville could have seen my mother's face, as I slowly walked into the sitting-room. Cat mothers can feel as well as human mothers, and wasn't my dear one glad to see her kitten come creeping toward her! She met me half-way, she smelt me and licked me, and her soft, damp nose told a tale. She had heard of my troubles. They had all heard, for they all got up to receive me. There was no sun in the window this afternoon, but still they were all lying on the broad seat on the cushions. I was conducted to the place of honor in the middle, and then they all began to talk to me. Father, and Serena, and Jimmy Dory, but mother didn't talk. She just licked. 115“How do you feel, eh?” said Jimmy Dory, giving me a rough pat with his paw. “Pretty sore, I guess.” “How did you hear?” I asked sharply. “Well, you see,” said Jimmy Dory, “since you went down to Beacon Street, daddy found that he has a cousin living in the house next door to you. She is a white Angora with blue eyes, and she came from Maine when he did. The dog in the house with her is a great gossip—a regular dickens of a fellow.” Just here Serena interrupted him, and begged him not to swear. “'Dickens' isn't swearing, is it, daddy?” and my brother appealed to our father. “It is rough and inelegant talk,” said my parent grandly, “and that is next door to swearing.” Jimmy Dory, not a bit abashed, continued to talk to me. “This fox-terrier is a regular mischief anyway, and tells awful lies, but usually there is a little grain of truth wrapped up in his lies. We got the news the day after. Father's cousin—Angora Girl, 116they call her—heard faint cat screams from your house one day last week. She told the fox-terrier, and the fox-terrier asked your big dog Mona what had happened. Mona said it was none of his business—to attend to his own yard, and she would attend to hers. However, this fox-terrier, Smarty, wasn't to be put down that way; so the next time Mona's back was turned, he cornered the little dog. What do you call her?” “Dolly,” I said. “Yes, Dolly. He told Dolly that he would chew her up and spit her out if she—” At this point my sister Serena interrupted him again. “Father,” she mewed piteously, “must I be forced to listen to this back-yard vulgarity?” “No, you shall not,” said my father, and he motioned with his paw for Jimmy Dory to stop. Jimmy had to, and then my father motioned for Serena to proceed with the news they had heard. “It seems,” began Serena grandly, “that your spaniel has been endowed with rather a pusillanimous disposition.” 117I tried not to laugh, for Jimmy Dory was saying, “Oh glory!” in my ear. “Do you mean that she is a coward?” I asked. “Certainly that is the signification of my definition.” “She is afraid of her own shadow,” I said. “Apparently so, for the fox-terrier cowed her—” “Dogged her you mean,” muttered Jimmy Dory. “Cowed her into submission,” went on Serena severely, “and Dolly had to relate the entire disgraceful occurrence. Afterward, the fox-terrier rehearsed the matter to the cat known as Angora Girl, and Angora Girl communicated the news to a cat who lives next door to us, and she gossiped over the wall with Jimmy Dory. The story, as it reached our ears, was to the effect that you had excited, braved, or, in some way, roused the indignation of the street cat, Slyboots. She had inflicted summary castigation on you, even to the extent of bruising, pounding and otherwise injuring your body,” and Serena 118lifting her head, looked at me through her imaginary glasses as if to say, “I am sorry for you, but I fear it served you right.” “What kind of a cat is this Slyboots, anyway?” inquired Jimmy Dory. “She is a poor outcast cat,” I replied, “and I have tried to be kind to her.” “An elegant name,” remarked Serena ironically. “And she hurt you very much,” murmured my mother in my ear. “She gave me a fearful beating,” I said frankly. “You have not yet told us the occasion of the altercation,” said my father. I told all about Slyboots; then, with a humble air, I waited for the verdict of my family. “Fighting,” began my father solemnly, “is a low-down, vulgar way of settling disputes, and brings not only the participant, but also his or her family,” and he stared significantly at Jimmy Dory, “into disagreeable and unendurable prominence.” “Just what I say,” interposed Serena 119with a toss of her head. “Here am I being pointed out as the sister of the fighting cat on Beacon Street.” “It's fun, isn't it, when you get your blood up?” said Jimmy Dory to me in a low voice. I shook my head. I had found no fun in fighting. “I should advise you,” continued my father, “not to let it happen again.” Well pleased to think that I had got off so cheaply, I yet plucked up courage enough to say meekly, “Suppose she takes my bed again?” “Choose another,” said my father decidedly. “You are only a kitten. You are not settled in your habits. Now, if it were a question of a cat of my age giving up his bed, it would be another matter.” “Suppose another cat should take your bed, father,” I inquired humbly, “what would you do?” He said nothing, but there was a dangerous glitter in his eye as he looked at me. “I bet you'd wallop him till there wasn't a grain of sense left in him,” exclaimed 120Jimmy Dory feelingly. Then he ran under a big chair, for my father's paw was uplifted threateningly. This seemed a good time for me to throw my sensation in among them. “My dear family,” I said impressively, “I have a tremendous piece of news for you. I am to be taken from Boston.” My mother stopped licking me, and put her head close to mine, as if to listen more attentively. My father and Serena were immensely impressed, but tried not to show it, while Jimmy Dory took advantage of their abstraction, and crept from under the chair to his former position beside me. “Go on,” said my father commandingly. “Well,” I continued, “the Denvilles are going to the country for the summer. I am to be taken with them, also Slyboots, and the dogs, and the birds.” “What country—where is it?” inquired Jimmy Dory breathlessly. “To Maine,” I replied, then I was silent, for this was my great stroke. 121Maine was the far-distant, fabled country that my father had come from. He had only alluded to it vaguely, for indeed I don't think he remembered much about it, having been only a kitten when he left it. But to us, his kittens, it was a land of dreams, of fair promise, of beauty—in fact, just the kind of place an adventurous little cat would like to visit. “Oh, cracky!” muttered Jimmy Dory, “I wish I could go too.” “You would get lost in the woods,” said Serena disdainfully, “and bears would eat you.” “You are not going alone,” said my mother anxiously, “who will there be to protect you?” “Oh, I shall keep close to Mona, I assure you, if there is any danger,” I replied. “Do not be afraid, dear mother. Don't you remember that I said all the family are going, Mr. and Mrs. Denville, and their daughter?” “Oh!” she replied in a calmer voice, but she was very uneasy. I could tell by her looks. 122My father so far had not spoken. Now we saw him licking his lips, and we all watched him, to catch the words of wisdom that we knew he would let fall. “The first question is,” he said clearing his throat, “whether the kitten is to be allowed to go.” “Oh!” I said in my turn. I am a pretty good-sized creature now, and being out in the world I am rather getting unused to parental control. However, I have been brought up to consider submission a necessary thing in kittens, so I listened respectfully. “Let us hear the arguments for and against,” he said, then he paused. “I vote she goes,” and Jimmy Dory, without waiting to let ladies speak first, plunged into a speech in defence of the free exercise of cat will. My father listened with a disapproving air. When Jimmy Dory had finished, he said, “Young fellow, your words are only a wild chewing of the air in favor of individual cat rights. Now, tell us plainly, why you consider 123that Black-Face should be allowed to go to the country.” “Because she wants to,” said my brother bluntly. “No reason at all,” replied my father promptly. “Rather a reason for her to stay at home. The young of any creature invariably wish to do what is not good for them.” “Father,” said Jimmy Dory in a sudden rage, “you don't want to hear arguments for her going. You only want to hear arguments for her staying.” “Hush! my son,” replied our parent authoritatively. “My eldest daughter will now state clearly and succinctly her reasons, or rather her views, on the subject of this far-away and doubtful trip for Black-Face.” <div class='chapter'> 124 <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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