Produced by Joe and Grace Longo










                      THE TALE OF
                     MISS KITTY CAT




                  _SLUMBER-TOWN TALES_
                 (Trademark Registered)

                          BY
                  ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY

                       AUTHOR OF
                  _SLEEPY-TIME TALES_
                 (Trademark Registered)
                   _TUCK-ME-IN TALES_
                 (Trademark Registered)

                          BY
                  ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY

               THE TALE OF THE MULEY COW
               THE TALE OF OLD DOG SPOT
               THE TALE OF GRUNTY PIG
               THE TALE OF HENRIETTA HEN
               THE TALE OF TURKEY PROUDFOOT
               THE TALE OF PONY TWINKLEHEELS
               THE TALE OF MISS KITTY CAT




[Illustration: Miss Kitty Cat Chased Old Dog Spot. _Frontispiece_]




                  _SLUMBER-TOWN TALES_
                 (Trademark Registered)

                      THE TALE OF
                    MISS KITTY CAT

                          BY
                  ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY

                       Author of
                   "SLEEPY-TIME TALES"
                 (Trademark Registered)
                          AND
                   "TUCK-ME-IN TALES"
                 (Trademark Registered)

                    ILLUSTRATED BY
                    HARRY L. SMITH


                       NEW YORK
                   GROSSET & DUNLAP
                      PUBLISHERS

          Made in the United States of America




                 COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY
                  GROSSET & DUNLAP





                CONTENTS


 CHAPTER
    I    A TERRIBLE PERSON
   II    DOG SPOT'S PLANS
  III    CHASING MISS KITTY
   IV    A TENDER NOSE
    V    SPOTS AND SPECKLES
   VI    BEECHNUT SHUCKS
  VII    TWO IN A TREE
 VIII    NINE LIVES
   IX    THE STOLEN CREAM
    X    A CREAMY FACE
   XI    THE WRENS' HOME
  XII    JOLLY ROBIN'S NEWS
 XIII    AN UNWELCOME GUEST
  XIV    CATCALLS
   XV    MOUSETRAPS
  XVI    A MIDNIGHT MEAL
 XVII    THE EAVESDROPPER
XVIII    KIDNAPPED
   XX    STRANGE QUARTERS
  XXI    A LONG JOURNEY
 XXII    IN THE PANTRY
 XXIV    THE FLOUR BARREL
  XXV    A SECRET
 XXIV    FIVE IN A BASKET




ILLUSTRATIONS

MISS KITTY CAT CHASED OLD DOG SPOT
                                      _Frontispiece_

MISS KITTY CAT LOOKED CALMLY AT RUSTY WREN

MISS KITTY CAT SEES MOSES MOUSE
        BALANCE A BIT OF CHEESE ON HIS NOSE

MISS KITTY CAT GUARDS HER KITTENS




THE TALE OF MISS KITTY CAT




I

A TERRIBLE PERSON


THE rats and the mice thought that Miss Kitty Cat was a terrible person.
She was altogether too fond of hunting them. They agreed, however, that
in one way it was pleasant to have her about the farmhouse. When she
washed her face, while sitting on the doorsteps, they knew--so they
said!--that it was going to rain. And then Mrs. Rat never would let her
husband leave home without taking his umbrella.

As a rule Miss Kitty Cat didn't look at all frightful. Almost always she
appeared quite unruffled, going about her business in a quiet way and
making no fuss over anything. Of course when old dog Spot chased--and
cornered--her, she was quite a different sort of creature. Then she
arched her back, puffed her tail out to twice its usual size, and spat
fiercely at Spot. He learned not to get within reach of her sharp claws,
when she behaved in that fashion. For old Spot had a tender nose. And no
one knew it better than Miss Kitty Cat.

Around the farmhouse she was politeness itself--when there was anybody
to observe her. If her meals were late she never clamored, as Johnnie
Green sometimes did. To be sure, she might remind Mrs. Green gently, by
plaintive mewing, that she had not had her saucer of milk. But she was
always careful not to be rude about it. And though Miss Kitty liked a
warm place in winter, she never crowded anybody else away from the fire.
She crept under the kitchen range, where no one else cared to sit. And
there she would doze by the hour--especially after she had enjoyed a
hearty meal.

On summer nights, however, when she loved to hunt out of doors, Miss
Kitty Cat was far from appearing sleepy. She roamed about the fields, or
crept through the tree-tops with a stealthy tread and a tigerish working
of her tail. Folk smaller than Miss Kitty never cared to meet her at
such times. They knew that she would spring upon them if she had a
chance. So they took good care to keep out of her way. And if they
caught sight of her when she had her hunting manner they always gave
the alarm in their own fashion, warning their friends to beware of the
monster Miss Kitty Cat, because she was abroad and in a dangerous mood.

Johnnie Green liked Miss Kitty. Often she would come to him and rub
against him and purr, fairly begging him to stroke her back. Unless he
pulled her tail at such times she kept her claws carefully out of sight
and basked under Johnnie's petting.

If he had been her size and she had been his, Miss Kitty Cat might not
have been so harmless. She might have played with Johnnie, as she
sometimes played with a mouse. But Johnnie Green never stopped to think
of anything like that. And if he had, he would have thought it a great
joke. He would have laughed at the idea of Miss Kitty Cat holding him
beneath her paw.




II

DOG SPOT'S PLANS


SOMEHOW old dog Spot and Miss Kitty Cat never became good friends. By
the time Miss Kitty Cat arrived on the farm in Pleasant Valley Spot had
lived there several years.

From the first day he met Miss Kitty in the kitchen Spot hadn't liked
her. Yet he claimed at the time that he was glad to see her. He said
that he could tell at once that he was going to have great sport with
her. He knew it would be fun to chase her!

Inside the farmhouse old Spot was careful how he behaved. The moment
Miss Kitty first set eyes on him she scurried under the table, where
she crouched and glared at him. That was scarcely what you might call a
friendly greeting. And Spot would have barked at her had he dared.

Since he didn't, he only whined a bit through his nose. You couldn't
have told what he meant by the sound.

Miss Kitty Cat didn't like his whining. She even opened her mouth wide
and said as much. She made an odd hissing noise, which amused old Spot
greatly. And he told Miss Kitty, in what was almost a growl (except that
it wasn't loud enough for one), "Wait till I catch you out of doors, my
lady! I'll have some fun with you."

Then Farmer Green's wife opened the door and told Spot to be gone.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself--" she scolded--"teasing a poor
little cat!"

Old dog Spot tucked his tail between his legs and crept through the
doorway, keeping one eye on the broom that Mrs. Green held in her hand.
And as soon as he was safely outside he gave two or three sharp yelps,
telling Miss Kitty Cat that he would watch for her the very first time
she set foot in the yard.

Somehow Miss Kitty Cat wasn't specially worried. She knew a thing or two
about dogs; and she didn't intend to let old Spot bully her. It took her
a few minutes to get over her anger. And then she came out from beneath
the table and lapped up the milk that Mrs. Green had set temptingly on
the floor, in a saucer.

When Miss Kitty had finished her meal she washed her face--a duty that
she performed with great care, for she prided herself on always looking
neat.

Watching her, no one would ever have guessed what was in her mind. "I'd
like to wash that dog's face for him!" Miss Kitty was saying to herself.
"He'd have some reason then for yelping and whining."

Having completed her toilet Miss Kitty jumped into a chair that stood in
the sunshine, near a window. And there she composed herself for a nap.
When she was well fed and well warmed she liked nothing better than to
curl herself up and doze and dream.

Meanwhile old dog Spot was telling everybody in the farmyard about the
new cat and the fun he intended to have with her.

"There'll be lively times around here when she comes outside the house,"
he chuckled.




III

CHASING MISS KITTY


WHEN Miss Kitty Cat awoke from her nap she got up and stretched herself.
In her opinion, a nap was no nap at all if one didn't stretch after
taking it. "There's nothing like a good stretch to make a person
limber," she often remarked.

Of course, in order to climb trees, or spring successfully at a rat or a
mouse, Miss Kitty had to keep her muscles supple. And since it happened,
now and then, that others jumped unexpectedly at her, she believed in
always being ready either to chase or to be chased.

After she had smoothed her fur to suit her, Miss Kitty went to the door
and mewed patiently until Farmer Green's wife opened it. Then Miss Kitty
Cat slipped out of the kitchen and found herself in the woodshed. A
highly interesting place, it seemed to her, with any number of crannies
to offer lurking-places for mice. She decided at once that the woodshed
would be a fine spot in which to hunt in stormy weather.

Feeling much pleased with her new home, Miss Kitty hopped down upon the
great flat stone that served as a step from the woodshed to the ground.
She couldn't help thinking, as she sat there, what a pleasant yard
Farmer Green had. She noticed that there were trees enough about the
farmhouse to furnish homes for plenty of birds.

And if there was one thing that Miss Kitty Cat liked it was to visit
birds right where they lived.

Seeing a faint stir in the grass not far away, she began to creep
towards it. Miss Kitty had found that it paid to look into such things.
Often she had surprised a meadow mouse in just that way.

This time, however, it was Miss Kitty Cat herself that was surprised.
She was so intent on her own important business that she never took her
eyes off that spot where the grass had moved. And that was why she
didn't see old dog Spot when he stuck his nose around a corner of the
farmhouse.

Now, Spot's ways were quite different from Miss Kitty's. Whenever he set
out on a hunt he never could keep still. So the moment he caught sight
of Miss Kitty Cat he gave a joyful bark. At the same time he bounded
towards her.

Of course Spot's yelps warned her to run. The moment she heard his first
bark she forgot all about her own hunt, being herself the hunted. She
scurried off across the farmyard, with Spot tearing after her.

If she had had time enough Miss Kitty would have climbed a tree. But
Spot was altogether too near her for that. And being a stranger about
the farmyard, she hadn't learned all the fine hiding places. Since Spot
was between her and the house, she made for the barn and sprang through
the open door. Inside Spot quickly cornered her.

With her back arched and her tail almost as big as Tommy Fox's brush,
Miss Kitty Cat turned and faced her pursuer.




IV

A TENDER NOSE


"HURRAH!" old dog Spot barked. At least, what he said sounded a good
deal like that.

He had cornered Miss Kitty Cat in the barn. And there was nothing he
liked more than teasing anybody that was short-tempered as she was.

"_Tchah!_" Miss Kitty hissed.

Now, that ought to have been warning enough to Spot to keep a good, safe
distance from her. But he was one of the sort that never knows enough to
take a warning for what it is worth.

"_Wow!_" he chuckled. "You needn't think I'm afraid of you. If you ran
from me once, you'll run again."

He didn't intend to hurt Miss Kitty. All he wanted was to get her to run
across the yard again, so that he might have the sport of chasing her.
So he edged nearer and nearer her, thinking that she would dodge past
him and run out of the barn.

But Miss Kitty Cat had no relish for that sport.

"Keep your distance, sir!" she cried. And though she spoke plainly
enough, old Spot paid no heed to her words. Instead, he gave a quick
spring at her, just to worry her a bit more.

To his great surprise, almost at that same instant Miss Kitty Cat sprang
at him. And as she jumped, she flashed one of her paws out and struck
Spot on one side of his long nose.

It was not just a gentle tap with a soft, well-padded paw. She thrust
her claws well out from between her toes. And jabbing them deep into
Spot's tender nose, she gave a sharp downward pull.

All at once old dog Spot thought of the time when, as a puppy, he stuck
his nose into a hornet's nest. His joyful bark changed suddenly to a
shrill _ki-yi_ of pain. And at the same time he became angry.

"You don't know how to have fun," he growled at Miss Kitty Cat. "Just to
teach you better manners I'm going to take you by the back of your neck
and shake you."

It appeared that Miss Kitty herself had quite a different notion. At
least, she went through an entirely different motion, which was not at
all like offering the back of her neck for old Spot to seize. When Spot
reached for her she clawed him furiously, with one paw after another,
while she told him what she thought of him.

He did not wait to hear everything that Miss Kitty had to say to him.
Spot thought too much of his nose to linger in the barn any longer, but
turned tail and hurried into the yard.

Miss Kitty Cat chased him as far as the door. Taking one quick backward
glance at her as he went, Spot noticed how fiercely her eyes glared. It
was a terrible sight. And it made him hasten all the faster.

"My goodness! What a temper!" he said under his breath.

Loping across the farmyard, he looked about him uneasily. He hoped
nobody had seen Miss Kitty Cat driving him out of the barn. He knew it
would be a hard matter to explain to any one. All his farmyard friends
would be sure to think it a great joke.

Luckily there was no one in sight except Henrietta Hen.

"She won't notice anything," Spot assured himself. "She's the stupidest
person on the farm."

Having nothing more to worry about except his scratched nose, old Spot
crawled under the woodshed and nursed his wounds during the rest of the
morning.

As for Miss Kitty Cat, she stayed in the barn a long time.

"What a worthless fellow that old dog is!" she thought. "This barn is
full of mice! I don't believe he has caught one in all the years he has
lived on the farm."




V

SPOTS AND SPECKLES


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!_ Then 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.




VI

BEECHNUT SHUCKS


ONCE in a while Frisky Squirrel paid a visit to Farmer Green's place.
Although he had learned that the farmyard was not without its dangers,
after one adventure Frisky was always sure to return, sometime, as if in
search of another.

So a certain fine, fall day found him scampering along the top of the
stone wall that followed the road as it dropped down the hill from the
woods to Farmer Green's front gate.

Old Mr. Crow, sailing lazily over the yellowing fields, caught sight of
the stone wall traveller and glided into a tree beside the road. "You'd
better not go near the farmyard, young fellow!" old Mr. Crow called.

Frisky Squirrel stopped, sat down, and looked up at Mr. Crow in the tree
above him.

"Why not?" Frisky inquired.

"Haven't you heard the news?" Mr. Crow asked him. "Haven't you heard
that there's a cat at the farmhouse?"

"I didn't know it," Frisky admitted. "But I don't see why I should turn
back. I won't hurt her."

Old Mr. Crow _haw-hawed_.

"I don't believe," he croaked, "you've ever met a cat."

"No, I haven't," Frisky Squirrel replied, "but I'd like to see one. So
I'll be on my way. But don't worry, Mr. Crow? I won't hurt her." And
then Frisky started off along the top of the stone wall once more, at a
somewhat brisker pace to make up for lost time.

"He can't say I didn't warn him," Mr. Crow exclaimed as he watched the
bouncing bit of gray fur.

"I hope Mr. Crow won't worry," said Frisky Squirrel to himself. "If the
cat gets hurt it will be her own fault, for I certainly won't harm her."

When Frisky reached the farmyard he crept around a corner of the barn,
hoping to find a few kernels of corn. But Henrietta Hen had been there
before him and there wasn't one kernel left. He ran here and there about
the yard. And at last, when quite near the woodshed door, he sat up
suddenly, twitched his nose a few times, and said, "Ha! I smell
beechnuts!"

Now, that was not strange. Johnnie Green had been eating beechnuts in
the woodshed doorway. And he had scattered the shucks on the broad
stone step. Frisky Squirrel began nosing them. And just out of sight
inside the woodshed Miss Kitty Cat awoke from a short nap, stopped right
in the middle of a long stretch, and said, "Ha! I smell a squirrel!"

Miss Kitty Cat was wide awake in an instant. She flattened herself upon
the woodshed floor and crept silently to the door. Though she didn't
make the slightest sound, all at once Frisky Squirrel's nose twitched
again, as he muttered to himself, "There's a very queer smell about
these beechnut shucks!"

He was sitting on the edge of the stone doorstep with a bit of beechnut
clutched in his paws. And when he looked up and saw somebody's nose
appear in the doorway he tumbled right over backward. The only sound he
made came from the beechnut shuck, which made a faint click as it fell
upon the stone. And Miss Kitty Cat's sharp ears caught it.




VII

TWO IN A TREE


WHEN Miss Kitty Cat dashed out of the woodshed Frisky Squirrel was two
jumps ahead of her. That was really a better lead than it sounds. Frisky
was always a good jumper. And the more scared he was, the further he
could leap. Anybody that knew him well would have known then--just to
see him--that something had given him a great fright.

First he had noticed a strange smell. Next he had seen a strange nose
come stealing out of the woodshed door. And not knowing who was going to
follow that nose, Frisky Squirrel felt that the sooner he climbed a
tree the better it would be for him. So he made for a tall elm that
wasn't too far away.

Though Miss Kitty Cat was a fast runner, Frisky reached the foot of the
tree ahead of her. And he was half way to the lowest branches before he
took a real look at his pursuer.

To his dismay he saw that the creature hadn't stopped at the foot of the
tree. The monster had already begun climbing after him. Frisky had never
seen any one just like this fierce person. One look was enough for him.
He pushed higher and higher into the tree-top and crept far out on a
drooping limb, which swayed beneath his weight as he clung to it.

There he paused, while he watched to see what the stranger would do. And
as he stared at the creature he remembered suddenly what Mr. Crow had
told him. "There's a cat at the farmhouse," the old gentleman had said.

"This must be the cat," Frisky thought. And to her he called, "If you're
the cat, don't come any nearer, madam! You might get hurt." For he
remembered, too, that he had told Mr. Crow that he wouldn't harm the
cat.

"It _is_ the cat," he said to himself presently, "for she has stopped."

Miss Kitty Cat did not quite dare follow Frisky Squirrel to the tip
where he swung. She crouched upon the branch a little way from him,
where it was safer for her, and with switching tail and bristling
whiskers waited to see what he would do next.

"It makes me uneasy to see you swaying so," she told Frisky. "Besides,
you're shaking this limb. And I don't like it."

"She's a fussy creature--this cat!" Frisky said to himself. "I promised
Mr. Crow I wouldn't hurt her; but I didn't promise him that I wouldn't
tease her." So he bobbed up and down with all his might.

"Stop!" cried Miss Kitty Cat. "That's a very reckless thing to do. It's
like rocking the boat."

"I think it's the finest sport in the world," Frisky chuckled.

"I know a finer," Miss Kitty snarled.

"What that?" he asked her.

"If I could get my claws on you I'd soon show you," she told him grimly.

Somehow there was something about her remark that startled Frisky
Squirrel--something that made him shiver. And when he shivered he lost
his hold. Down he dropped, slipping and floundering from one branch to
another.

And down Miss Kitty Cat followed him.




VIII

NINE LIVES


FRISKY SQUIRREL was much more at home in the trees than Miss Kitty Cat
was. While Frisky managed at last to cling to a limb and right himself,
Miss Kitty lost her footing and fell out of the tree completely.

"Oh! She'll he hurt!" Frisky cried as he saw her turning and twisting
through the air. But to his great surprise she struck with all her four
feet on the ground, quite unharmed. "You did that very nicely," he
called to her generously.

But she didn't answer. To tell the truth, she felt rather foolish
because she had fallen out of the tree. And she walked back to the
woodshed and stalked through the doorway without saying a word.

After that adventure Frisky Squirrel decided to go back home. So he
scurried town the tree-trunk and scampered to the stone wall, and
scooted along the top of it.

Old Mr. Crow was watching for him. And as before, he dropped down near
the wall to talk.

"I hardly expected to see you again," Mr. Crow remarked. "You couldn't
have met the cat."

"Yes!" said Frisky. "I met her. She followed me up a tree. And it's a
wonder she didn't get hurt, though I was careful of her. She had a fall;
but she landed beautifully."

Old Mr. Crow nodded wisely.

"She always lands on her feet," he observed. "And you needn't worry
about her," he added. "You know, they say she has nine lives."

"Nine lives!" Frisky Squirrel exclaimed. "What do you mean, Mr. Crow?"

Now, Mr. Crow really knew a great deal, because he had lived many years.
And he pretended to know still more, because he liked to appear learned.
But this question was a puzzler for him. He simply couldn't answer it.

"You wouldn't understand, even if I explained," he told Frisky Squirrel.
And then he flew away, leaving Frisky to run home and wonder what it
meant to have nine lives.

As for Mr. Crow, he suddenly made up his mind that he would find out
about Miss Kitty Cat's nine lives. He would ask that lady herself. So he
flapped himself over to the big elm in the farmyard, where he cawed and
cawed, hoping that Miss Kitty Cat would appear to see what all the noise
was about.

And sure enough! she soon bounced out of the woodshed door and looked up
at Mr. Crow inquiringly.

"I've been hearing a good deal about; you," Mr. Crow called down to her
in what he considered his sweetest tones, though anybody else would have
said they were quite hoarse. "I know you always manage to land on your
feet--and I can understand that. But what's this I hear about _nine
lives?_"

Miss Kitty Cat only stared at him.

"Perhaps you don't feel like talking," said Mr. Crow. "If you've just
had a fall, maybe you're still a bit shaken up, even if you did land on
your feet. Perhaps you'd rather I came back later."

Miss Kitty Cat suddenly found her voice.

"You've been gossiping with that young squirrel!" she snapped. "I'll
have you know that I'm not shaken up at all. But I'd shake you up if I
could get hold of you!"

Mr. Crow was astonished. He was sure he had been most polite. Yet here
was Miss Kitty Cat as rude as she could be!

He amused himself by jeering at her until she turned her back on him and
went inside the woodshed. And he had to go away without learning
anything at all about the nine lives of Miss Kitty Cat. They always
remained a deep mystery. Everybody agreed that the number was nine. But
beyond that, nobody could explain about them.




IX

THE STOLEN CREAM


"I DECLARE!" Farmer Green's wife cried one day. "Somebody's been
stealing my cream in the buttery."

The buttery was a big bare room on the shady side of the house, where
great pans of milk stood on a long table. When the cream was thick
enough on the milk Mrs. Green skimmed it off and put it in cans. At one
end of the buttery there was a trap door in the floor. When the trap was
raised you could look right down into a well. And into its cool depths
Mrs. Green dropped her cans of cream by means of a rope, which she
fastened to a beam under the floor, so the tops of the cans would stay
out of the water.

Mrs. Green made butter out of that cream. So it was no wonder she was
upset when she discovered that some one had meddled with one of her pans
of milk.

"It can't be the cat," said Farmer Green's wife. "The buttery door has
been shut tight all the time."

Miss Kitty Cat was right there in the kitchen while Mrs. Green was
talking to her husband. And it was easy to see that Miss Kitty agreed
with her mistress. She came close to Mrs. Green and purred, saying quite
plainly that she was a good, honest cat and that she deserved to be
petted. At least, that was what Mrs. Green understood her to mean.

Often, after that, Mrs. Green discovered traces of the thief in the
buttery. Flecks of cream on the side of a milk pan, drops of cream on
the table, smudges of cream now and then on the floor! Such signs meant
something. But Farmer Green's wife couldn't decide what.

And another strange thing happened. Miss Kitty Cat lost her appetite for
milk. She would leave her saucer of milk untasted on the kitchen floor.

Now and then Mrs. Green picked Miss Kitty up and looked closely at her
face. At such times Miss Kitty purred pleasantly. She did not seem to be
the least bit disturbed.

One evening, after dark, Johnnie Green went into the buttery to get a
pail. The moment he opened the door there was a crash and a clatter
inside the room.

Johnnie jumped back quickly.

"There's somebody in the buttery!" he shouted.

But when his father brought a light they found no one there. A tin
dipper lay on the floor.

"When you opened the door it must have jarred the dipper off the edge of
the table," said Farmer Green.

"_Meaow!_" said a voice behind them. There stood Miss Kitty Cat, saying
that everything _must_ have happened exactly as Farmer Green said.

"She couldn't have been in here, could she?" Farmer Green puzzled.
"Come, Kitty!" And he picked up Miss Kitty and held her where the light
fell full upon her face. "Clean as a whistle!" said Farmer Green. "I
guess she just followed us in." He set her down again. And once more,
with a plaintive _meaow_ she agreed with him perfectly.




X

A CREAMY FACE


FARMER GREEN'S wife threw away pan after pan of milk, because she knew
somebody had been stealing cream off the top of them. At least, she told
Farmer Green to feed the milk to the pigs, because she wasn't going to
make butter of any cream that had been tampered with by goodness knew
whom or what. And old dog Spot said that feeding good creamy milk to the
pigs was just the same as throwing it away. He made that remark to Miss
Kitty Cat, adding that it was a shame that somebody was stealing cream
and declaring that he hoped to catch the thief.

Miss Kitty Cat made no reply whatsoever.

"Don't you hope I'll catch the guilty party?" Spot asked her.

"Please don't speak to me!" Miss Kitty Cat exclaimed impatiently. "I
don't enjoy your talk; and you may as well know it."

"Very well!" said Spot. "But when I catch him I'll let you know."

"She's jealous," Spot thought. "She knows I'm a good watch dog. And she
can't bear the idea of my catching a thief."

It was hard, usually, to tell how Miss Kitty Cat felt about anything.
She was a great one for keeping her opinions to herself. It seemed as if
she wanted to be let alone by every one except Farmer Green's family.

Having boasted about catching the cream thief, old dog Spot began to
watch the buttery very carefully. Search as he would, he couldn't find a
chink anywhere that was big enough even for a mouse to squeeze through.

One day he happened to catch a glimpse of something moving under the
roof of the shed next the buttery. To his amazement he saw Miss Kitty
Cat slip through an old stove-pipe hole that pierced the great chimney
which led down into the buttery, where there was an ancient fireplace
which hadn't been used for years and years. Miss Kitty Cat crept along a
tiebeam and hid herself in a pile of odds and ends that somebody had
stowed high up under the roof and left there to gather dust and
cob-webs.

"Ah, ha!" said Spot under his breath. "This is interesting."

When Miss Kitty Cat visited the kitchen a little later there wasn't a
speck of dirt on her coat. And her face was spotless. No one would have
guessed that she had ever made her way through an old chimney.

Old dog Spot said nothing to her then. But he chuckled to himself. He
had a plan that pleased him hugely.

All this happened on a morning. And late that afternoon when Miss Kitty
Cat wasn't anywhere to be seen, and Farmer Green's wife opened the
buttery door to get a pitcher of cream for supper, Spot suddenly began
to bark in the shed. He scrambled up a stepladder that leaned against
the wall and stood on the top of it while he pawed the air frantically,
as if he were trying to fly.

The noise brought Mrs. Green hurriedly out of the buttery. And she was
just in time to see Miss Kitty Cat peer out of the old stove-pipe hole,
with a _creamy_ look about her mouth.

Well, the cat was out of the bag at last. Or perhaps it would be more
exact to say that Miss Kitty was out of the buttery. Anyhow, it was very
plain to Mrs. Green that she had been in the buttery only a moment
before, lapping thick cream off a pan of milk. And she hadn't had time
to wash her face.

After that Farmer Green stopped up the stove-pipe hole. And soon Miss
Kitty's appetite for milk returned. When Mrs. Green set out her saucer
of milk for her Miss Kitty lapped it up greedily--and even licked the
saucer clean.

Old dog Spot watched her with a grin.

"I let you know when I caught the cream thief, just as I promised you I
would," he jeered.

Miss Kitty wiped her face very carefully before replying.

"Don't boast!" she said. "It's a disagreeable thing to do.... Besides,
_I_ knew--_long before you did_--who was taking Mrs. Green's cream."




XI

THE WRENS' HOME


THERE wasn't a bird on the farm that didn't dislike Miss Kitty Cat. And
there was only one bird family that didn't live in dread of her. That
was the Wren family. And they had a good reason for feeling safe from
Miss Kitty.

Miss Kitty Cat always spluttered whenever she unbent herself enough to
talk with anybody about Rusty Wren and his busy little wife, who had
their home in the cherry tree outside Farmer Green's window.

"The Wrens needn't feel so proud of their house," Miss Kitty Cat
sometimes said. "It's nothing but an old syrup can. And I know for a
fact that Mrs. Bluebird looked at it last spring when she was hunting
for a home. And she said she wouldn't live in such a place. I heard her
tell her husband so."

Now, the reason why Mr. and Mrs. Wren liked their house and the reason
why Miss Kitty Cat didn't were one and the same: Miss Kitty couldn't get
inside it. The mouth of the syrup can, which the Wren family used for a
door, was no bigger than a quarter of a dollar. It was entirely too
small for Miss Kitty Cat, though it was big enough to admit Rusty Wren
and his plump wife.

Miss Kitty said everything she could to persuade the Wren family to
build themselves a nest in a crotch of the tree, like other birds.

"I'm sure," she told them, "you'd like such a home much better than
this. There's no reason why you shouldn't be as fashionable as everybody
else. You wouldn't have to look for a place to build. There's room
enough right in this old cherry tree for a hundred happy homes if
anybody wanted to build them."

"We like our house," Rusty Wren said.

"I wouldn't move, even if he wanted to," Mrs. Wren declared.

"Maybe you'd move because he _doesn't_ want to," Miss Kitty Cat
suggested.

But Mrs. Wren shook her head in a most decided way.

"No!" she said. "I'm satisfied with my house. And our neighbors would be
far better off if they built as we do, inside a snug sort of box."

"You'll never know what you're missing," Miss Kitty remarked, "if you
don't try an open nest sometime. Now, only yesterday I visited Jolly
Robin's family over in the orchard. And their youngsters certainly did
look beautiful. But you keep yours hidden inside that old syrup can
where nobody can see them. It's a shame that the public can't have a
chance to admire such fine nestlings as you must have in there."

Miss Kitty Cat was sitting under the cherry tree. And she looked up and
smiled most agreeably at Mrs. Wren.

Rusty Wren looked thoughtful.

"There's something in what she says," he whispered to his wife. "It is
too bad not to let the neighbors admire the finest nestlings in Pleasant
Valley."

"You know they say a cat may look at a king," Miss Kitty simpered.
"Well, a fortnight ago I went over to the pine woods and had a look at a
Ruby Crowned Kinglet's family. So it seems only fair that I shouldn't
be denied a look at your little wrenlets."




XII

JOLLY ROBIN'S NEWS


IN A WAY Miss Kitty Cat was a patient creature. She could play a waiting
game. She spent hours watching rat-holes without growing restless.

So after her talk with Rusty Wren and his wife, when she urged them to
give up their boxlike house and build themselves an open nest like most
other birds, Miss Kitty left them.

"I'll let my words sink in," Miss Kitty muttered to herself. "Of course
they'll want to talk things over privately."

It wasn't often that she made herself so agreeable to any of the bird
people. Indeed, she had been so pleasant that Rusty Wren began to think
that Miss Kitty was a much kinder creature than he had always supposed.

"Miss Kitty's very agreeable," Rusty Wren remarked to his wife. "Did you
notice how sweetly she spoke of our children?"

"Huh!" said Mrs. Wren. "She may fool you; but she can't fool me. She's a
mealy-mouthed animal, if ever I met one."

"I don't see how you can say that about Miss Kitty Cat," Rusty replied.
"She doesn't eat meal."

"I suppose you'll be saying next that she doesn't eat birds!" his wife
exclaimed.

"I fear you've been listening to gossip," Rusty ventured. "If Miss Kitty
Cat comes back I hope you'll be cordial to her."

He could have bitten his tongue a moment later for saying that, because
Mrs. Wren began to scold him. And he flew away and left her as soon as
he could think of a good excuse.

He went over to the orchard, where he flitted about for some time. And
at last he met Jolly Robin, who appeared most doleful.

"What's the matter?" Rusty Wren asked. "You look terribly upset."

"So I am," Jolly Robin admitted. "We had a caller yesterday."

"Well, well!" said Rusty Wren. "That's nothing to be glum about."

"You'd think so if you were I. It was Miss Kitty Cat. And when she left
she took one of our nestlings with her."

"Perhaps she only borrowed it," Rusty Wren suggested. "Maybe she'll
return it to-day."

"No!" Jolly Robin told him. "If she comes back again it will only be to
take another one."

Suddenly Rusty Wren remembered that he had urged his wife to be cordial
to Miss Kitty Cat the next time she called at the cherry tree where they
lived.

"I must hurry home!" he cried. "I must warn my wife."

"But your youngsters are safe," Jolly Robin assured him. "Miss Kitty Cat
can't reach them inside the tin can where you built your nest."

"That's true," Rusty Wren admitted. "But there's my wife! Miss Kitty
might harm her, if she caught her unawares." So he started for home at
top speed.




XIII

AN UNWELCOME GUEST


AS he neared his home in the cherry tree, Rusty Wren saw a fearsome
sight. Miss Kitty Cat was crouched right on top of the tin syrup can
which Johnnie Green had nailed to the tree. Inside that can was the Wren
family's nest. And inside the nest were some brand-new youngsters, only
two days out of their shells.

It was no wonder that when Rusty Wren came hack from the orchard and saw
such a sight he began to shriek.

"What are you doing on my roof?" he shrilled.

Miss Kitty Cat looked up calmly and watched him as he hopped about in
the top of the tree above her head.

[Illustration: Miss Kitty Cat Looked Calmly at Rusty Wren.]

"I've come to make another call on your wife," she explained.

Then a muffled voice chirped, "She's been here a long time and I can't
get her to go away."

The moment he heard that, Rusty Wren felt better. It was his wife's
voice and it meant that she was safe. To be sure, Rusty knew that she
was a prisoner in her own house; for it was plain that she dared not
leave it so long as Miss Kitty Cat stayed on the roof, ready to grab
Mrs. Wren the moment she stepped out of her doorway.

"Your wife is very shy," Miss Kitty remarked to Rusty Wren with a sly
smile. "I've been hoping to get more acquainted with her. That's why I
climbed up and sat on your roof. When people are shy and don't invite
me inside their houses I believe in making myself at home outside, while
I wait for them to appear."

From her doorway Mrs. Wren called to her husband, "Don't let her deceive
you with her pretty talk! Remember what I told you! She's
mealy-mouthed.... If you had seen her trying to reach her paw through
the door you'd know how dangerous she is."

"There!" said Miss Kitty Cat with a sigh. "People never seem to
understand my ways. I was only trying to shake hands!"

"With her claws!" cried the muffled voice of Rusty Wren's wife. "Ugh!
She's a wicked creature if ever there was one."

"Go away!" Rusty Wren scolded. "Get off my roof! Get out of my cherry
tree!"

By this time feathered neighbors of the Wren family were arriving from
all directions. They didn't hesitate to call Miss Kitty Cat names. And
some of them even darted quite near her, as if they meant to peck her
eyes out.

Miss Kitty began to have a worried look.

"Goodness! Where do they all live?" she asked herself. "I had no idea
there were so many birds around here. There's better hunting than I
supposed."

Try as they would, the birds couldn't budge Miss Kitty Cat from the top
of Rusty's house. He was frantic, poor fellow!

"I don't know what to do," he wailed. "My wife will starve in there--and
the children, too."

Just then little Mr. Chippy came hurrying up to him.

"Don't worry!" Mr. Chippy cried. "He's coming! He's on the way now; and
he can get you out of your trouble if anybody can."

Miss Kitty Cat pricked up her ears. She couldn't help hearing what Mr.
Chippy said.

"I shall stay right where I am," she declared. "Nobody can make me
move."

She had scarcely finished speaking when a most unexpected sound startled
her.

It was "_Meaow!_"




XIV

CATCALLS


PERCHED on top of Rusty Wren's tin house, Miss Kitty Cat had been
enjoying herself thoroughly, while the birds made a great how-dy-do and
tried in vain to frighten her away.

When she heard all at once an unexpected _meaow_ she showed that it
startled her.

"A cat!" cried Miss Kitty. "I didn't suppose there was another cat for
miles around." She looked about on all sides, on the ground and in the
tree-tops. And there was no cat anywhere in sight.

Meanwhile the birds were all exclaiming, "There! He's here. Now Miss
Kitty Cat had better watch out."

Again a strange, mocking catcall sounded from somewhere. There was a
sort of jeer about it that aroused Miss Kitty Cat's anger.

"He's come, has he?" she exclaimed to little Mr. Chippy, who chattered
at her from a good, safe distance. "If he's looking for a fight I'd be
pleased to have him come and get it."

Whoever the stranger was, and wherever he was, he knew how to tease Miss
Kitty Cat. Now he howled at her from the thicket of lilac bushes on the
edge of the flower garden. Now he mewed at her from the hedge in front
of the farmhouse. And though Miss Kitty Cat tried to get a glimpse of
him, she couldn't see anything that even faintly resembled a cat.

The annoying cries moved from one place to another. She was sure of
that. But the one that made them managed to stay hidden.

"This is queer!" Miss Kitty Cat said to herself. "Can it be that there's
a cat's voice around here, and nothing more? A cat without a voice
wouldn't be so strange. But a voice without a cat--that's the oddest
thing I ever heard of!"

At last Rusty Wren seemed to take heart. And his wife, inside their
house, abused Miss Kitty Cat loudly--or as loudly as she could from
inside the tin syrup can.

"I always knew you were a coward," she told Miss Kitty. "You're always
ready to attack us small people. But you don't dare fight anybody of
your own size."

"How can I fight a person that I can't see?" Miss Kitty asked. "If this
noisy stranger would come out in the open I'd soon show you whether I'd
fight him or not. I'd teach him--if I could get hold of him--not to come
here and interfere when I'm making a neighborly call."

"Nonsense!" cried Mrs. Wren. "You don't mean half you say. If you
weren't a fraud you'd go and find this person that's jeering at you."

_"Meaow-ow-ow!"_ Again that mocking call grated on Miss Kitty's ears.

"There!" Mrs. Wren exclaimed. "There it is again. It would make me
pretty angry to be talked to like that. But I don't suppose it bothers
you. Probably you're used to having people caterwaul at you."

That was a little more than Miss Kitty Cat could stand. She scrambled
down from the old cherry tree and ran across the yard to the row of
currant bushes, whence the last catcalls had come.

As she drew near, a slim slate-colored bird gave a harsh laugh as he
flew up from the bushes. It was Mr. Catbird. And Miss Kitty Cat felt
sheepish enough when she saw him. She knew that he had succeeded in
fooling her with his mocking cries.

The birds--with Mr. Catbird among them, and Mrs. Wren, too--all gathered
round Miss Kitty and made such a clamor that she crept away and hid in
the haymow. She never could endure much noise, unless she made most of
it herself--by the light Of the moon.




XV

MOUSETRAPS


"I DON'T understand," said old dog Spot to Miss Kitty Cat one day, "why
Mrs. Green wants to keep you around the house when she can buy
mousetraps at the village." Old Spot eyed Miss Kitty slyly. He dearly
loved to watch her whiskers bristle and her tail grow big. And he could
make both those things happen almost any time he wanted to.

If anybody wished to see Miss Kitty Cat turn up her nose he had only to
mention mousetraps. Of all worthless junk she thought they were the
worst.

"They can't catch any but the dull-witted mice," she used to say. "A
mouse that knows anything won't go near a trap unless he's hungry. If he
wants to go to a little trouble to get a piece of stale cheese he can
usually spring the trap without getting caught in it--even if he has to
use his tail to do it."

"But a mousetrap," Spot objected, "is little or no care. One doesn't
have to feed it except when he wants it to catch a mouse. And everybody
knows that Mrs. Green feeds you several times a day. Besides, the fewer
mice you catch, the more food she has to waste on you."

"Rubbish!" Miss Kitty Cat sniffed. "You eat ten times as much as I do.
And I never heard of your catching a mouse, either."

"Ah!" said Spot. "Don't forget that I drive the cows and watch the house
and the barns at night. And during my spare moments I hunt woodchucks.
You couldn't expect a person of my importance to fritter away his
valuable time catching mice. Mousetraps couldn't do my work," old dog
Spot continued. "There never was a mousetrap made that could drive a
cow."

"That's one reason why I don't like them," said Miss Kitty Cat. "They're
not only poor at catching mice, but they're useless at anything else.
Now, whenever I capture a mouse I always make matters as pleasant as
possible for, him. I always play with him for as long a time as I can
spare. But a trap just goes _snap_! A trap doesn't seem to _want_ to
make friends with anybody."

Old dog Spot laughed right in Miss Kitty's face.

"Much you care for your friends the mice!" he chuckled. "And much they
care for you! If you knew what they call you, you'd be pretty angry."

"What's that?" Miss Kitty demanded.

"I don't want to tell you," said Spot. "I don't want to hurt your
feelings." He knew (the rogue) that he could tease Miss Kitty more by
leaving her to wonder what name the mice had for her.

Much as she wanted to know it, Miss Kitty Cat was too proud and haughty
to ask him again. And, jumping up suddenly, she walked stiffly away.

"I shall have to find a mouse somewhere," she muttered under her breath.
"I shall have to find a mouse somewhere and make him tell me what old
Spot won't."




XVI

A MIDNIGHT MEAL


DOWN in the cellar of the farmhouse a fat couple known as Mr. and Mrs.
Moses Mouse crept out of a hole under the pantry floor and ran down a
post to the cellar bottom.

"Things have come to a pretty pass!" Mr. Mouse grumbled. "Mrs. Green
never did leave more than a crumb or two in the pantry where a fellow
could get it. And since Miss Snooper came to live here there's less to
eat than ever."

Mrs. Mouse nodded her head somewhat dolefully.

"Do you remember, Moses," she said to her husband, "what delicious bits
of stale cheese Mrs. Green used to serve for us here in the cellar,
stuck on a short piece of wire? To be sure, she was somewhat
thoughtless--the way she left that dangerous loop caught back, so it
would snap over and catch you behind the ears if you weren't careful.
But you were always very skillful at avoiding that."

"Ah! Those were happy days--or, I should say, _nights_!" Mr. Mouse
exclaimed with a sigh. "It makes me sad just to think of that fine, old,
stale, moldy cheese."

"I suppose Mrs. Green gives it all to that horrid Miss Snooper now,"
said Mrs. Mouse, as she climbed to a shelf and looked at the labels on
several jars of jam and jelly that stood there in a row.

Moses Mouse watched her hopefully. Being quite plump, he was a bit
lazy. And he did not care to scramble up to a shelf for nothing.

"There isn't one without a cover, is there?" he inquired.

"No!" his wife replied.

"There isn't one with a little sweetness oozing down the side of it, is
there?" he asked her.

"No!" said Mrs. Mouse. "Not one! I suppose Miss Snooper has licked them
all clean."

"That disagreeable Miss Snooper has spoiled everything for us," Moses
Mouse declared. And for a fat gentleman he looked oddly unhappy.

"I don't know what we'll do for our supper," he whined. He always whined
when he was hungry.

"There's that chunk of putty that Farmer Green left in the woodshed,"
his wife reminded him.

"Ugh!" Moses Mouse made a wry face. "We've dined upon that for the last
three nights. And I never did like putty, anyhow. I wish that snooping
Miss Snooper had to eat it." His mournful eyes roved about the cellar
until they rested on something in a dark corner. "What's in that box
over there?" he asked Mrs. Mouse.

"I don't know," she answered.

"Well--go and see, then!" he snapped. "I'm so faint I can scarcely
stand."

Mrs. Mouse always humored Moses when he was hungry. She knew that he was
never fretful after he had eaten a good meal. So her feet twinkled
across the cellar floor and she disappeared inside the box.

Not hearing anything from her, Moses Mouse soon grew more impatient than
ever.

"Well!" he sang out. "What luck!"

"Potatoes!" came his wife's muffled answer, out of a full mouth. "I
declare, I forgot to call you."




XVII

THE EAVESDROPPER


FOR ANYBODY that was so faint, Moses Mouse ran to the box of potatoes
very spryly. His wife was already inside it, eating.

"I'll have my supper first," he announced, "while you stay outside on
the cellar bottom and watch for Miss Snooper."

"I'm just as hungry as you are," his wife objected. "I don't want to
wait. You know you'll be a long time at your supper." What she really
meant was that Moses Mouse would be sure to overeat.

"Very well!" he said. "But don't blame me if Miss Snooper sneaks up on
us."

Thereupon Moses Mouse fell to right greedily. Although there were
delicacies that he liked more than raw potatoes, he was hungry enough to
enjoy them--and not even ask for salt. And his wife, too, ate almost as
heartily as he did. The pale moonlight, streaming through the cellar
window, lighted their banquet hall with its ghostly gleams. They enjoyed
the cool dampness of the place. They liked its musty smell. And Moses
Mouse remarked--between mouthfuls--that they hadn't had such an elegant
feast for weeks. "It's quite like old times," he said.

Mrs. Mouse agreed with him. Indeed, they relished their meal so
thoroughly that they forgot everything else. And if Moses Mouse hadn't
happened to glance up and see two eyes gleaming at him from over the
edge of the box he would have had no reason for leaving his meal
unfinished. At the moment, his mouth was crammed so full of raw potato
that he could scarcely say a word.

"Miss Snooper!" he gasped, all but choking over the words. And he
vanished in a twinkling, hoping, of course, that Mrs. Mouse would take
the hint and disappear too, but not waiting to see whether she managed
to get away safely.

A second later Miss Kitty Cat sprang into the box. She reached out a paw
and grabbed at what looked like Mrs. Mouse. But to her great disgust she
found her claws clutching nothing more interesting than a small potato,
with a little knob at one end that looked not unlike a head.

Miss Kitty Cat let go of her prize with a mew of disappointment. She
knew that by that time Mr. and Mrs. Mouse had made their escape. And
Miss Kitty soon learned how they slipped away. In one corner of the box
she found a tiny hole. "Here's where they went!" she exclaimed. "I don't
see how I missed seeing it when I first came sniffing around this box."

Though she had lost a midnight supper, Miss Kitty did not feel too sad.
She was too angry for that.

"At last," she cried, "I've found out what old dog Spot wouldn't tell
me. The mice are calling me 'Miss Snooper' behind my back!"

In the morning, when Miss Kitty met old dog Spot in the woodshed, she
was still feeling peevish. "What are you doing in here?" she snapped.

"Oh, I'm just snooping around to see what I can find for my breakfast,"
he told her with a grin.

Miss Kitty Cat bared her teeth in a snarl.

"_Snooping!_" she cried. "You'd better be careful what you say to me! I
heard some mice talking last night."

"Ah!" said old Spot. "Now you know that listeners seldom hear anything
good about themselves."

Then he decided, suddenly, that he would look elsewhere for his
breakfast.

For Miss Kitty Cat was in a terrible temper.




XVIII

KIDNAPPED


THERE was great rejoicing among all the Mouse family. Pudgy Mr. Moses
Mouse had picked up a bit of news that delighted him and his wife and
all their many relations. Somebody had stolen Miss Snooper--as the Mouse
family always called Miss Kitty Cat! Somebody had taken her away!

Master Meadow Mouse had seen it all; and he had told Moses exactly how
it happened. Master Meadow Mouse knew that a wagon had borne Miss
Snooper up the road and over the hill. He had watched it disappear, with
his own eyes. All those things Moses Mouse repeated as fast as his
short breath would permit. He had hurried back home to tell the news as
soon as he had heard it. He found, however, that no one cared _how_ Miss
Kitty Cat (or Miss Snooper), went, nor where; no one cared who took her;
no one cared when. It was enough to know that she was gone. And
everybody exclaimed that it was the best news ever--and good riddance to
bad rubbish--meaning Miss Kitty Cat.

If it were only true! The Mouse family scarcely dared believe that it
was. But when two days passed, and Moses Mouse himself had even ventured
into the pantry, and the kitchen, and the woodshed, without meeting Miss
Kitty, the Mouse family dared decide that she had indeed gone for good.

       *       *       *       *       *

Meanwhile Miss Kitty Cat was having a most unhappy time. It was true
that she had been stolen. A man driving a peddler's wagon up the hill
one evening had noticed her as she lay on top of the stone wall, around
the turn of the road beyond the farmhouse. "Kitty! Kitty! Kitty!" he
called, as he stopped his horse. And reaching behind the seat, he
brought out a bit of food, which he held out for her.

Now, it happened that at that very moment Miss Kitty Cat had her mind on
food. She had been hoping that a meal would appear at any moment out of
a chink in the wall. And when it was dangled right before her eyes like
that she couldn't resist it. She climbed up into the wagon. And the next
thing she knew the peddler had clapped her into a basket and fastened
the cover. Miss Kitty Cat was a prisoner.

"There, my beauty!" the peddler exclaimed. "I'll take you home with me.
We need a mouser. And I dare say you're a good one. Unless I'm mistaken,
you were hunting chipmunks on the wall."

Miss Kitty Cat made no answer. Naturally, it pleased her to be called a
beauty. But there were other matters that she didn't like in the least.
Her captor had forgotten to toss the scrap of meat into the basket--the
bait with which he had caught her. And it was somewhat breathless inside
her prison. And Miss Kitty Cat had no idea where the peddler was taking
her.

He had clucked to his horse and started him plodding up the hill. Every
time a wheel struck a stone Miss Kitty gritted her teeth. She never did
enjoy riding in a wagon, anyhow. And this one was not at all
comfortable.

"They'll wonder, back home, what's become of me," she thought. "And one
thing is certain: everybody will miss me!"




XIX

STRANGE QUARTERS


THE PEDDLER that took Miss Kitty Cat away in his cart drove long into
the night. Inside the basket into which her captor had popped her, Miss
Kitty kept her wits at work. She knew that there were many twists and
turns as they creaked up the hills and rattled down the other side of
them. Then there were level stretches where the peddler held his horse
to a swinging gait that fast put long miles between them and Farmer
Green's place in Pleasant Valley.

"Dear me!" Miss Kitty thought. "What a tramp I'll have getting back
home again!" For already she was planning to return to the farm. She
didn't care if they did need a good mouser at the stranger's house. They
needed one just as much at Farmer Green's.

"If Mrs. Green has to depend on traps to take care of the mice she'll
soon be eaten out of house and home," Miss Kitty mused. "The minute that
fat Moses Mouse knows I'm gone he'll be as bold as brass."

At last the wagon left the hard road and pulled up in a dooryard. A dog
barked. And Miss Kitty heard voices.

"I've brought you something in here that you'll like," said the peddler
as he handed Miss Kitty's basket to somebody. "But don't look at it out
of doors or it'll get away."

Later, inside the house, a woman let Miss Kitty out of her prison.

"What a big cat!" she exclaimed. "Where did you get her?"

"Oh, I picked her up on the road," said the peddler. "She looked as if
she wanted a ride," he chuckled. "I think she was hunting along an old
stone wall."

"She'll find hunting enough here," said his wife. "This house is overrun
with mice. I'll just put her down cellar and let her work for her
supper." Then she gave Miss Kitty a toss down the cellar stairs and
slammed the door behind her.

It was no wonder that Miss Kitty Cat was angry.

"A fine way to treat a guest!" she spluttered down there in the dark.
"That woman might have set out a little milk for me. It would have
tasted good, after my long ride in that stuffy basket." Miss Kitty
couldn't help thinking what a fine home she had had at Farmer Green's
and how good Mrs. Green had always been to her.

Even Johnnie Green--though he _was_ a boy--had petted her oftener than
he had pulled her tail.

But Miss Kitty was too hungry to sit long at the foot of the cellar
stairs in thought.

She soon heard faint rustlings squeaks, and scratchings around her. And
though she didn't care to oblige the woman upstairs in any way, Miss
Kitty lost no time in providing a hearty meal for herself.

Then she lay down on an old sack and slept for a while.

And just before the roosters began to crow she had found a broken pane
in a cellar window.

"What luck!" said Miss Kitty under her breath. And very silently she
slipped through the opening and stole away.




XX

A LONG JOURNEY


BY SUNRISE Miss Kitty Cat had trotted at least a mile along the road
that passed the peddler's house. She wanted to get a safe distance away
before the family got up and turned loose the dog that had barked the
night before, when she arrived.

Miss Kitty remembered clearly that the wagon had been climbing a long
hill before it turned into the peddler's dooryard. So without hesitating
she started _down_ the road. She knew that in that direction lay
Pleasant Valley--and her home at Farmer Green's.

Having put the first mile of her journey behind her, Miss Kitty stopped
beside a little brook and drank her fill of cool, sweet water. She was
very thirsty, because she hadn't had a drink since the evening before.

A pretty wood stretched beyond the brook, tempting Miss Kitty Cat to
explore it. At that hour of the morning there were many birds twittering
among the trees. And spry chipmunks were frisking about in search of
their breakfast. Miss Kitty Cat just naturally began to think of her own
breakfast.

"If I were at home, Mrs. Green would be setting a saucer of milk on the
woodshed steps about this time," she murmured. "But now I must shift for
myself."

Luckily Miss Kitty was quite able to find something to eat, as a
surprised meadow mouse soon discovered.

After breakfasting, Miss Kitty lingered a while to tease the birds, who
scolded her shrilly, calling her a tramp and telling her to get out of
their woods.

Of course Miss Kitty had to stay there for a time after that, to let the
birds know that they couldn't frighten her away. She scared them almost
out of their wits by threatening to climb up where their nests were. But
she didn't do more than sharpen her claws against a tree-trunk. That
alone was enough to throw them into a panic.

At last, after she had bothered the birds quite enough, Miss Kitty Cat
set off for Pleasant Valley once more. Sometimes she travelled through
fields; sometimes she jogged along the roads; sometimes she jumped to
the top of a stone wall and used that for a highway. And always when she
heard the creak and rattle of a wagon, as the sun rose higher and
higher, she crept into the bushes and hid until she had the road to
herself again.

If Miss Kitty hadn't been homesick she would have thought her adventure
a great lark. But somehow she couldn't get Mrs. Green's house out of her
mind. Especially the thought of the kitchen, with its delicious odors of
seven-layer cakes baking in the oven, and doughnuts frying on top of the
range, made Miss Kitty's nose twitch. And her own particular warm spot
under the range, where she basked away long hours! When she recalled
that it was no wonder that her pace quickened.

Perhaps Miss Kitty Cat herself couldn't have told exactly how she knew
the way back to Farmer Green's place. No doubt she wouldn't have told,
had she known; for she was one of the kind that keep such things to
themselves. She never even explained to old dog Spot, afterward, where
she spent the three nights that she was away from the farm.

Anyhow, Miss Kitty Cat kept plodding along. And one afternoon when she
came out of a patch of woods on a hill-top, she saw something looming
right ahead of her that looked familiar.

It was Blue Mountain. And she knew that on the other side of it lay
Pleasant Valley--and her home at Farmer Green's.




XXI

IN THE PANTRY


OF COURSE everybody knows that while the cat's away the mice will play.
So what happened during Miss Kitty Cat's absence from the farmhouse was
really no more than any one might have expected. There were gay banquets
in Mrs. Green's pantry at midnight. And among those present there was no
one that had a better time than fat Mr. Moses Mouse. He was always the
life of the party. He made jokes about Miss Snooper--as he called Miss
Kitty Cat. And nobody laughed at them harder than he.

With every night that passed, Moses Mouse grew still merrier. Some of
his companions even claimed that they could scarcely eat, he made them
giggle so violently.

On the fourth night of Miss Kitty's absence, and at the fourth banquet,
Mr. Mouse balanced a bit of cheese on the end of his nose, exclaiming at
the same time, "What a pity it is that Miss Snooper isn't here! How I'd
like to offer her this delicious tidbit!"

To his great surprise, none of his friends laughed.

"Look out, Moses!" Mrs. Mouse cried the next moment.

"Don't worry, my dear!" said he. "I shan't lose this nice piece of
cheese. If I drop it I can find it again. But I'm not going to drop it.
I've practiced this trick a good many times.... It's too bad Miss
Snooper isn't here to see it."

[Illustration: Miss Kitty Cat Sees Moses Mouse Balance a Bit of Cheese
on His Nose.]

Still nobody even snickered--though Moses himself would have had he not
been afraid of joggling the cheese off the end of his nose. He thought
the silence very strange. And removing his eyes from the cheese, which
he had been watching closely (though it made him look cross-eyed), he
took a quick glance about him. Everybody had vanished.

"Ha!" said Moses Mouse to himself. "They're playing a trick on me. They're
hiding." And he promptly lost his temper. Much as he loved to cut
capers and play tricks on others, Moses never liked to have any one get
a laugh on him. And now he gave a sort of snort, because he was angry.

Thereupon the bit of cheese fell off Moses's nose and rolled behind him
on the pantry floor. He turned to get it, only to find himself face to
face with Miss Snooper herself; for Miss Kitty Cat was home again.

Before Moses Mouse could jump she clapped a paw down on him. And there
he was--a prisoner!

"Well, well!" cried Miss Kitty Cat. "Aren't you glad to see me? You were
just wishing I was here."

Moses Mouse didn't act glad--not the least bit! He struggled his hardest
to get away. But Miss Kitty hadn't the slightest trouble holding him,
with only one paw, too.

"Now that I'm here," she said to him, "don't you want to balance that
scrap of cheese on your nose once more, and offer it to me?"

Since Miss Kitty caught him, Moses Mouse hadn't said anything that she
could understand. He had made only a few squeaks of fright. Now,
however, he managed to gasp, "Yes! Just let me go a moment! I can't
pick up the cheese while you're crushing me against the pantry floor."




XXII

THE FLOUR BARREL


MISS KITTY CAT took her paw off Moses Mouse, after giving him a sharp
nip to warn him not to try to run away.

"Ouch!" Moses squeaked. And then, when he felt himself free, he picked
up the hit of cheese that he had dropped upon the pantry floor. But he
was shaking with fear.

He shook so hard that he couldn't balance the cheese on the end of his
nose. It tumbled off at once and he turned quickly to get it. Miss Kitty
Cat turned with him. And while she was turning, Moses Mouse turned back
again and jumped behind a flour barrel.

She sprang after him. But the barrel stood so near the wall that there
was only a small space behind it. It was wide enough for Moses Mouse to
slip through; but it was entirely too narrow for Miss Kitty Cat. And
Moses Mouse waited just beyond reach of her paw.

She ran around the barrel, only to find that Moses had crawled back
through the opening and was watching her with his beady little eyes.

Miss Kitty Cat was almost frantic. She hurried around the barrel again,
and saw that Moses Mouse had repeated his trick. He needed only to move
the length of his tail, while she had to whisk all the way around the
fat flour barrel.

"This will never do," Miss Kitty thought, as she peered through the
crack at Moses Mouse, while she paused to get her breath. And as she
stared at him, an idea popped into her head. It seemed such a good idea
that Miss Kitty Cat decided to act upon it at once.

So she wheeled and started off again, as if to run around the barrel
once more. But when she had whisked half way around it she turned and
hurried back again.

She had expected to surprise Mr. Moses Mouse on the wrong side of the
crack. And to her astonishment, he wasn't there. He wasn't anywhere in
sight.

"Goodness me!" Miss Kitty Cat wailed. "There must have been something
wrong with my idea."

There wasn't. It had merely happened that Moses Mouse had had an idea of
his own.

"I don't want to stay dodging here the rest of the night," he had said
to himself. "The next time Miss Snooper makes a trip around the barrel
I'm going to run up the side of it and trust to luck."

That was exactly what he did. Once on top of the barrel, Moses Mouse
leaped to a shelf. He crept along the shelf until he came to the pantry
window. Now, Mrs. Green had left the window slightly open. And Moses
Mouse darted out of doors and half jumped, half tumbled, to the ground.
He knew how he could get to his nest quickly enough, through a certain
chink in the cellar wall.

Miss Kitty Cat soon decided that she had lost Moses Mouse again.

"Dear me!" she sighed. "What wretched luck I'm having to-night! I
declare, it's a sad home-coming for me."

Meanwhile Mr. Moses Mouse was having a most merry time. Mrs. Mouse made
a great fuss over him. And that was exactly what he liked.




XXIII

A SECRET


MISS KITTY CAT was behaving in the strangest manner. She came into the
kitchen and hovered about the feet of Farmer Green's wife, mewing and
looking up at Mrs. Green as if she had something special to tell her.

"What is it, Kitty?" Mrs. Green asked her. "Are you hungry?"

But Miss Kitty Cat soon showed that she wasn't hungry, for she wouldn't
touch anything that Mrs. Green offered her.

"Well, you'll have to run away, anyhow," Mrs. Green told her. "I can't
take a step with you right under my feet."

Though Miss Kitty Cat trotted towards the door, she soon made it plain
that she didn't intend to leave the kitchen unless her mistress went
with her. She came back and twitched Mrs. Green's apron gently with her
claws. Then she ran to the doorway again and called to Mrs. Green.

It seemed to Miss Kitty Cat that she couldn't have said more clearly
that she wanted to lead Mrs. Green somewhere. But still Mrs. Green
didn't quite understand.

"Scat!" she cried, just a bit impatiently. "I've too much to do to be
bothered this morning. I suppose you've caught a mouse and want to show
it to me. You'll have to bring it here, for I haven't any time to waste
to-day."

Miss Kitty Cat felt somewhat hurt. She went out and sat on the doorstep
and looked in at Farmer Green's wife. Now and then she gave a plaintive
mew. But Mrs. Green wouldn't pay any attention to her.

"Dear me!" said Miss Kitty. "Mrs. Green is busier than ever this
morning."

Old dog Spot had been watching Miss Kitty's actions. And now, as she
started towards the barn, he sidled up to her, wagging his tail to show
her that he wanted to have a few friendly words with her.

"If Mrs. Green won't come with you, I'll be glad to," he offered. "Just
lead the way and I'll follow."

"You?" Miss Kitty Cat exclaimed with scorn. "You needn't think I'd take
you where I want Mrs. Green to come. You needn't think I'd show you what
I want her to see."

"Ho!" cried old Spot. "I don't know how you're going to stop me from
following you."

"I do," said Miss Kitty firmly. "If you try to tag along after me where
I'm going I'll soon make you wish you had minded your own affairs."

There was a look in her eyes that old Spot did not like. It reminded him
of the time when he cornered Miss Kitty in the barn, soon after she
arrived at the farm. He remembered that his nose still bore the marks of
her sharp claws.

"Well, well!" he said. "I was only joking. I'm too busy to bother with
you, anyhow. I have a little matter to attend to in the pasture. There's
a Woodchuck up there that's getting too bold."

Then he trotted off, trying to look as important as possible, so that no
one would think he was afraid of Miss Kitty Cat.

"Good!" Miss Kitty cried, as she watched him while he started up the
lane.

"I'm glad he's out of the way. It would be awkward if I had to fight him
while I'm doing what I'm going to do."




XXIV

FIVE IN A BASKET


"WELL, if you're not bothering me again!" Farmer Green's wife exclaimed.

Miss Kitty Cat had come up behind her and brushed against her, asking at
the same time with her most polite mew if Mrs. Green wouldn't please
turn around.

Mrs. Green looked over her shoulder.

"I declare!" she cried. "So that's what you've been fussing about, is
it?"

Miss Kitty Cat gently laid something on the floor at her mistress' feet.
And she acted much pleased when Mrs. Green bent over and picked up a
tiny, soft, pudgy--kitten.

"What do you think of that?" Miss Kitty Cat asked Mrs. Green. At least,
that was what Mrs. Green understood her to say.

Anyhow, Miss Kitty appeared delighted with what Mrs. Green told her. And
feeling that her youngster was in safe hands, Miss Kitty Cat ran out of
the kitchen and disappeared.

In a little while she returned, carrying another kitten in her mouth.
Mrs. Green admired this one as much as the first. And again Miss Kitty
vanished.

She returned with a third kitten; she returned with a fourth one.

"Well, well!" Farmer Green's wife said to her. "We have enough
now--don't you think so?"

Mrs. Green soon learned that Miss Kitty Cat was not quite of the same
mind. She made one more trip across the yard to the barn. And at last,
with an air of great pride she set down a fifth kitten upon the kitchen
floor.

"That's all, Mrs. Green," Miss Kitty said. "They're so beautiful it's a
shame there aren't twice as many."

But Mrs. Green was out in the woodshed and didn't hear her. She came in
soon with a basket.

"This is what old Spot used to sleep in when he was a puppy," Mrs. Green
told Miss Kitty Cat. "I suppose you're willing to use it for your
family."

Miss Kitty made no objection when Mrs. Green carefully laid the five
kittens side by side on an old shawl which she spread in the bottom of
the basket. Then Mrs. Green picked up the precious burden and with Miss
Kitty following closely, set it down in a corner of the woodshed.

"There!" said Mrs. Green. "Now they're snug and warm. And I'll set
your milk right beside the basket, so you won't have to leave your
family when you drink it."

[Illustration: Miss Kitty Cat Guards Her Kittens.]

It was not long before old dog Spot poked his long nose though the
woodshed doorway and spied Miss Kitty Cat close beside the basket,
lapping her milk. He gave a short bark when he saw her. And to his
astonishment both Miss Kitty Cat and Farmer Green's wife came running at
him.

Mrs. Green had a broom in her hand and Miss Kitty Cat had her claws in
her paws. They both ordered him to keep away from the woodshed. And Spot
sneaked off to the barn and hid in the stall beside the old horse
Ebenezer.

"What's troubling you?" Ebenezer inquired in his slow way.

"It's that ill-natured Miss Kitty Cat," Spot exclaimed. "She has a big
family of kittens. And she's terribly touchy about anybody's coming near
them. Although she's keeping them in my basket, she hasn't even invited
me to have a look at them.... I only hope," he added, "they won't grow
up to be like their mother."

Old Ebenezer looked down at him with mild surprise.

"What's the matter with Miss Kitty?" he asked.

"She can't take a joke," said Spot. "If you chase her, she always claws
you if she can."

Now, that was one of the first things Miss Kitty taught her children.
She claimed that claws were made to be used--especially on old dog
Spot.

But when a kitten tried its claws on one of its mates Miss Kitty always
cuffed it smartly. She claimed, then, that claws were _not_ made to be
used--especially on one's own family.

And in time the kittens learned their lessons perfectly.

THE END




         SLUMBER-TOWN TALES
       (Trademark Registered.)
        By ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY
            AUTHOR OF THE
SLEEPY-TIME TALES and TUCK-ME-IN TALES

Colored Wrapper and Text Illustrations Drawn by HARRY L. SMITH

These are fascinating stories of farmyard folk for boys and girls from
about four to eight years of age.

THE TALE OF MISS KITTY CAT

When Mrs. Rat saw Miss Kitty Cat washing her face, she knew it meant
rain. And she wouldn't let her husband leave home without his umbrella.

THE TALE OF HENRIETTA HEN

Henrietta Hen was an empty-headed creature with strange notions. She
never laid an egg without making a great fuss about it.

THE TALE OF THE MULEY COW

The Muley Cow belonged to Johnnie Green. He often milked her; and she
seldom put her foot in the milk pail.

THE TALE OF TURKEY PROUDFOOT

A vain fellow was Turkey Proudfoot. He loved to strut about the farmyard
and spread his tail, which he claimed was the most elegant one in the
neighborhood.

THE TALE OF PONY TWINKLEHEELS

Pony Twinkleheels trotted so fast you could scarcely tell one foot from
another. Everybody had to step lively to get out of his way.

THE TALE OF OLD DOG SPOT

Old dog Spot had a keen nose. He was always ready to chase the wild
folk. And he always looked foolish when they got away from him.

THE TALE OF GRUNTY PIG

Grunty pig was a great trial to his mother. He found it hard not to put
his feet right in the feeding trough at meal time.

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK




          SLEEPY-TIME TALES
       (Trademark Registered.)
        By ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY
            AUTHOR OF THE
TUCK-ME-IN TALES and SLUMBER-TOWN TALES

Colored Wrapper and Text Illustrations Drawn by HARRY L. SMITH

This series of animal stories for children from three to eight years,
tells of the adventures of the four-footed creatures of our American
woods and fields in an amusing way, which delights small two-footed
human beings.

THE TALE OF CUFFY BEAR
THE TALE OF FRISKY SQUIRREL
THE TALE OF TOMMY FOX
THE TALE OF FATTY COON
THE TALE OF BILLY WOODCHUCK
THE TALE OF JIMMY RABBIT
THE TALE OF PETER MINK
THE TALE OF SANDY CHIPMUNK
THE TALE OF BROWNIE BEAVER
THE TALE OF PADDY MUSKRAT
THE TALE OF FERDINAND FROG
THE TALE OF DICKIE DEER MOUSE
THE TALE OF TIMOTHY TURTLE
THE TALE OF BENNY BADGER
THE TALE OF MAJOR MONKEY
THE TALE OF GRUMPY WEASEL
THE TALE OF GRANDFATHER MOLE
THE TALE OF MASTER MEADOW MOUSE

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK




          TUCK-ME-IN TALES
       (Trademark Registered.)
        By ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY
            AUTHOR OF THE
SLEEPY-TIME TALES and SLUMBER-TOWN TALES


Colored Wrapper and Text Illustrations Drawn by HARRY L. SMITH

A delightful and unusual series of bird and insect stories for boys and
girls from three to eight years old, or thereabouts.

THE TALE OF JOLLY ROBIN

Jolly Robin spreads happiness everywhere with his merry song.

THE TALE OF OLD MR. CROW

A wise bird was Mr. Crow. He'd laugh when any one tried to catch him.

THE TALE OF SOLOMON OWL

Solomon Owl looked so solemn that many people thought he knew
everything.

THE TALE OF JASPER JAY

Jasper Jay was very mischievous. But many of his neighbors liked him.

THE TALE OF RUSTY WREN

Rusty Wren fought bravely to keep all strangers out of his house.

THE TALE OF DADDY LONG-LEGS

Daddy Long-Legs could point in all directions at once--with his different
legs.

THE TALE OF KIDDIE KATYDID

He was a musical person and chanted all night during the autumn.

THE TALE OF BETSY BUTTERFLY

Betsy spent most of her time among the flowers.

THE TALE OF BUSTER BUMBLEBEE

Buster was clumsy and blundering, but was known far and wide.

THE TALE OF FREDDIE FIREFLY

Freddie had great sport dancing in the meadow and flashing his light.

THE TALE OF BOBBY BOBOLINK

Bobby had a wonderful voice and loved to sing.

THE TALE OF CHIRPY CRICKET

Chirpy loved to stroll about after dark and "chirp."

THE TALE OF MRS. LADYBUG

Mrs. Ladybug loved to find out what her neighbors were doing and to give
them advice.

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK




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 | Transcriber's notes: Obvious spelling/typographical and             |
 | punctuation errors have been corrected after careful comparison     |
 | with other occurrences within the text and consultation of external |
 | sources.                                                            |
 | Page 22: "They why" changed to "Then why".                          |
 | Page 71: "Horrid" replaces "horried".                               |
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End of Project Gutenberg's The Tale of Miss Kitty Cat, by Arthur Scott Bailey