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Tale of Miss Kitty Cat

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<h2>V</h2> <h3>SPOTS AND SPECKLES</h3> When she first met Miss Kitty Cat face to face Henrietta Hen exclaimed, "What a pity!" Miss Kitty Cat hadn't intended to speak to Henrietta Hen at all. She didn't care, as a rule, to have anything to do with hens. She often remarked that she liked eggs and she liked chickens; but she never could see what hens were good for. Well, when Henrietta Hen spoke to her like that Miss Kitty Cat paused and stared at her coolly for a moment or two. Then she asked in rather a distant tone, "What's a pity?" Now, Henrietta Hen seldom knew when she was snubbed. And goodness knows people snubbed her often enough, too. For she was forever making remarks about their looks. And now she said to Miss Kitty Cat, "It's a pity your speckles are so big." Miss Kitty Cat saw at once that Henrietta Hen was a vain creature. She had half a mind to walk on and leave her, without saying another word to her. Indeed, Miss Kitty had turned aside to continue her stroll towards the meadow when Henrietta Hen spoke to her again. "Don't you think," Henrietta demanded, "that speckles should be worn very small, like mine? Don't you think yours are too big?" "I'd rather not talk with you," said Miss Kitty Cat. "I can see plainly that we'd never agree." "Oh, do stop for a while!" Henrietta Hen besought her. "I love a chat with a cat," she added with a silly giggle. Miss Kitty Cat was vexed. She thought that Henrietta Hen was a tiresome person. "Ill stop and have a chat with you," Miss Kitty relented, "for it's not often that I meet a spotted hen. If my speckles are too big," she went on in an icy tone, "it is just as true that your spots are altogether too small." "Spots!" Henrietta cackled. Like all empty-headed people, she was quick to lose her temper. "Spots indeed! I'd have you know that I haven't any spots. I'm a speckled beauty—that's what I am. And if you don't believe it you can ask the Rooster." "Perhaps I was mistaken," Miss Kitty Cat purred. "Anyhow, I'll take your word about the Specks. I won't bother to ask the Rooster." "Ah!" Henrietta Hen exclaimed. "You're afraid of him! You're afraid he might want to fight you. And I wish he would," she screamed at Miss Kitty, "for it's plain that you're no gentleman." "Well—I should hope not!" Miss Kitty Cat gasped. "I thought you were a gentleman, or I should never have spoken to you," Henrietta Hen declared. "When I first saw you I said to myself, 'Here's a quiet, polite gentleman! It will be pleasant to have him living at the farmhouse.' But I see that I was mistaken." "You were!" cried Miss Kitty, who was—to say the least—greatly astonished by Henrietta's odd remarks. "My name is Miss Kitty Cat. And what made you think I was a gentleman is more than I can guess." "Miss!" cried Henrietta. "Miss! <ins class="transcriber" title="Transcriber’s note: original reads ‘They’.">Then</ins> why, pray tell me, do you wear those whiskers?" Try as she would, Miss Kitty could give no reason that satisfied Henrietta Hen. And Henrietta always declared that Miss Kitty Cat was a strange, strange person. <hr class="chapter" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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