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

<h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XIX THE CLOSE OF THE SUMMER</h2></div> I am ashamed to say that weeks and weeks have gone by since I have sat down at night and had a good think over things that are going on about me. I have been happy and busy. All day long something was happening on the farm to keep us interested, and nearly every night Serena and I would run about and play, till we were so tired that we just tumbled into our nice beds. It seems impossible to think that the summer is about gone. “Why, Aunt Tabby,” I said to her just now, “surely it was only yesterday that I asked you why Farmer Gleason made nice little beds for the seeds to go to sleep, and then kept fussing with them till I was sure he would wake them up.” 296Aunt Tabby smiled. “You were a very ignorant little city cat. Now you know something about grubs and worms, and the constant care a farmer has to put forth to keep his crops from being eaten up.” “The haying was beautiful,” I murmured. “I wish the sweet smelling days could come again.” “A pity Thummie has hay-fever,” said Aunt Tabby. “He is glad when the haying is over. It was pitiful to hear him sneezing when the men were unloading the hay-carts.” “I admire Thummie,” I said warmly. “He is a brave cat not to desert his post when it becomes unpleasant.” “He's all right in winter,” said Aunt Tabby. “He is out a great deal, and then when he is cold he sits on a cow's back.” “Bessie is his friend, isn't she?” I said. “Yes, the Jersey. She loves Thummie.” “Here comes Joker,” I said, as he walked down from the barn and sat beside us. I said nothing aloud, but I thought to myself how much Joker has improved since we came to the farm. Aunt Tabby says it is 297because he has been much with Serena and me, and less with the untrained Blizzard and the slippery Rosy. I think he is better because Slyboots gave him such a beating for taunting poor Serena, however, I don't like to say this to Aunt Tabby. These country cats all stand by each other. “I've got some news for you,” said Joker to me. “I'm afraid you're soon going away.” “From the farm?” I said in dismay. “Yes, I just heard Farmer Gleason tell one of the men that soon you'll all be going back to Boston.” “Why, the summer has passed like a dream,” I said. “Perhaps you'll come back next summer,” said Aunt Tabby. “Oh! I hope so,” I said. “I just love this place.” “Slyboots is a lot better for her visit,” said Aunt Tabby. “Her eyes look quite strong now.” “She strained them trying to see mice and 298rats in the Boston streets when she was cold and hungry,” I said. “She was all run down.” “We are just like human beings in that way,” said Aunt Tabby. “If we're not properly fed and housed, all our bodily functions suffer.” “What's a function?” asked Joker slyly. “You're trying to talk Bostonese, like Serena, Aunt Tab.” Aunt Tabby thoughtfully licked her paw and said nothing. “Where is Serena?” asked Joker looking round. “On the upper veranda,” I said. “She never got over that mole-hunt, did she?” he went on. “A cat that never has trouble doesn't amount to much,” said Aunt Tabby. “You know that, Joker.” He hung his head, then his eyes twinkled, and he looked at me. “We ought to weigh Black-Face before she goes back to the city. She's gained about three pounds since she came!” 299I gave a little sigh. My appetite is my weak point. Then I said, “Your cream here is so delicious, and I have never tasted such bread and butter in Boston, nor such savory meat.” “Put a rein on your appetite, Black-Face,” said Joker, “or you'll have kitten's gout.” “There are the Denvilles coming up from the meadow,” said Aunt Tabby, “and little Mary with them.” “All as brown as berries,” said Joker. “That child ought to live in the country.” There was certainly an immense change in our dear little Mary, and just now a wonderful thing happened. Her parents came up the hill, went to the barn, then began to descend the slope to the carriage-house. Little Mary left her parents and ran ahead—actually ran—a thing I had never seen her do before, though she could walk very fast. I saw Mrs. Denville stop and snatch at her husband's arm as if she were going to fall. One hand pointed to Mary. Her lips were moving. We cats knew that she was saying—“My 300little girl can run—she is stronger than when she came. What wonders the country has done for her.” “You'll come next summer fast enough,” said Aunt Tabby. “Oh, I wish we could stay till apple-picking!” I said, casting a glance at the old orchard where each tree was a perfect sight with its load of red fruit. “You might be cold,” said Aunt Tabby cautiously. “Up here in Maine cool winds sometimes blow, and the farmers get their fingers nipped while they are picking the apples. Often Mrs. Gleason sends out hot drinks to the orchard to keep the men warm while they are up on the ladders at work.” “Well, we have had a lovely summer,” I said. “We shall have very pleasant things to think over during the long winter.” “I liked that picnic down by the river about as well as anything,” said Joker licking his lips. “I've often heard folks talk about picnics but they always went so far off that cats couldn't go. Now, when Farmer Gleason had that one right here at home 301after haying, and had all the men who helped him and their families, I thought it was fine.” “I liked the big evening party,” I said, “when people drove in from miles round, and they had speeches and singing.” “And I liked the school children's parade on the Fourth of July,” said Aunt Tabby, “when they all marched up from the schoolhouse with banners, and had that play-acting on the front lawn and the feast afterwards, and nobody got hurt at fireworks.” “It was all good,” I said—“all this last part of the visit has been lovely. I think it must be easier to have happy times in the country than in Boston.” Aunt Tabby smiled. “You are young, Black-Face. When you are older, you will know that whether you are happy or unhappy depends on the kind of cat you are.” Before I could answer her Slyboots came trotting up. She seemed unusually excited for her. “What's this I hear about going back to Boston?” she said. 302We told her what we had heard, and I said, “Don't you want to go?” She shuddered as she said, “I hate the train.” “Do you want to stay here?” asked Joker. “Wouldn't be square,” she said firmly. “I'm the Denvilles' cat and I've got to stick it out with them.” “They'll always be good to you,” said Aunt Tabby. “You can trust those people.” Slyboots looked at me. “Is Serena going to live with us?” she said. “I suppose so,” I replied in surprise. “I have never asked her.” “You just go find out,” she said. “I guess she'll jar you.” I fled up-stairs to the veranda. Serena was lying with half-shut eyes, and occasionally glancing up into the blue sky seen through the tree-tops. Something told her I was coming, and without turning her head she said, “The hawk is around. Go warn Mona.” 303I flew down-stairs. There was great talk on the farm of the intelligence of the St. Bernard, whereas we cats told her when the hawk was coming, and the birds told us. As I ran up to the barn I threw swift glances about me. The little birds knew. Wild sparrows, swallows, goldfinches, purple finches, robins, and ever so many other birds were all flying toward the west. The pigeons saw them, and they were high up in the air circling as swiftly as they could round and round the carriage-house, so the hawk could not drop on them from above. The hens didn't know yet, for Beauty and her brood were following Bobby, the tame pig, up and down the young orchard where he was rooting up worms. He wouldn't let any other hen and chickens get near him. “Mona, Mona,” I mewed as I ran to the barn floor, “hawk! hawk!” Mona opened her great jaws and bellowed, “Bow! Wow!” as she ran from the barn to the house and then to the orchard. Every creature understood her warning 304note, and she was not the only enemy the hawk had. There was a furious scolding and chattering from the pine trees beyond the orchard where a pair of crows had had a nest during the summer. They had seen the hawk, and they worried him till he passed by the front door of their nest where the young ones used to be. He had a hard flight that morning. By the time he reached the farm, every chicken was hiding under bushes, or in the buckwheat, or under the veranda, or on the woodpile, and a pair of king-birds were nearly driving him crazy. Aunt Tabby had explained to me when I first came to the farm about these brave little birds, who are never frightened of a hawk and who do no harm, though they are often accused of eating too many bees. Aunt Tabby, who has watched them closely, says they kill a thousand noxious insects for every bee they eat. Mr. Hawk flew away to the westward, but the little frightened birds were all scurrying ahead of him, and he would not be able to do 305much damage in that direction. As soon as I saw the last beat of his powerful wings, I ran back to Serena. “Oh, sister!” I said, “have you heard that we are soon going back to Boston?” She turned her handsome eyes on me. “No, but I imagined the subject would soon be under discussion.” “And are you going to live with the Denvilles?” I blurted out. She smiled half sadly. “No, Black-Face, I am going back to our parents.” “Oh, Serena!” I said, “I am much disappointed.” “That is nice in you, Black-Face, but I must do my duty. Our father and mother have missed me, and in thinking things over lately, I know I did wrong to leave them.” I was so surprised that I did not say anything for a long time. Then I murmured, “You will come to see us sometimes.” “Oh! yes,” said Serena brightly. “We are close by.” “Serena,” I said, “are you going back 306home because you want to, or because you ought to?” “The latter first, but I'll make it the former, before I'm done with it,” she said with a laugh. <div class='chapter'> 307 <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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