<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</SPAN></span></p>
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<h2><SPAN name="THE_SANDY_CAT" id="THE_SANDY_CAT"></SPAN>THE SANDY CAT.</h2>
<p>The sandy cat sat by the kitchen fire. Yesterday
it had had no supper; this morning
everyone had forgotten it. All night it had caught
no mice; all day as yet it had tasted no milk. A
little grey mouse, a saucerful of milk, a few fish or
chicken bones, would have satisfied it; but no grey
mouse, with its soft stringy tail behind it, ran across
the floor; no milk was near, no chicken bones, no
fish, no anything. The serving-maid had been
washing clothes, and was hanging them out to dry.
The children had loitered on their way to school,
and were wondering what the master would say to
them. The father had gone to the fair to help a
neighbour to choose a horse. The mother sat
making a patchwork quilt. No one thought of the
sandy cat; it sat by the fire alone and hungry.</p>
<p>At last the clothes were all a-drying, the children
had been scolded, and sat learning a lesson for the
morrow. The father came from the fair, and the
patchwork quilt was put away. The serving-maid
put on a white apron with a frill, and a clean cap,
then taking the sandy cat in her arms, said,
"Pussy, shall we go into the garden?" So they
went and walked up and down, up and down the
pathway, till at last they stopped before a rose tree;<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</SPAN></span>
the serving-maid held up the cat to smell the roses,
but with one long bound it leaped from her arms
and away—away—away.</p>
<p>Whither?</p>
<p>Ah, dear children, I cannot tell, for I was not
there to see; but if ever you are a sandy cat
you will know that it is a terrible thing to be
asked to smell roses when you are longing for a
saucerful of milk and a grey mouse with a soft
stringy tail.</p>
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