SPARROW, THE TRAMP.




  [Illustration: “The sparrow again waited until the child had almost
  reached him.”--_Page_ 155.]




  SPARROW, THE TRAMP.

  A Fable for Children.

  BY LILY F. WESSELHOEFT.

  _WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY JESSIE McDERMOTT._

  [Illustration: Posy]

  BOSTON:
  LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.
  1902.




  _Copyright, 1888_,
  BY ROBERTS BROTHERS.

  UNIVERSITY PRESS:
  JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE.




PUBLISHERS’ NOTE.


The lamented author of “Little Women” in her last days read with great
delight the manuscript of this little story; and its publication is
owing greatly to the interest which she had in it.




[Illustration: MRS. POLLY.]




SPARROW, THE TRAMP.




CHAPTER I.


“LET that sugar-bowl alone, Posy,” said Tom, as Posy extracted a lump
while they were waiting for Papa and Mamma to come down to breakfast.

“I’m not taking it for _myself_,” answered Posy, as plainly as the
large lump in her mouth permitted her to speak; “I’m only just getting
a lump for Dicky.”

“That’s a story,” said Tom.

“I was only just tasting it to see if it was a real sweet lump,” said
Posy very distinctly now, for the lump had disappeared. “I didn’t mean
to eat it, but it went all to pieces in my mouth.”

“You might have known it would,” said Tom.

“I guess I’d better pick out a real hard lump next time,” said Posy;
and she made up her mind not to put that one in her mouth, so she only
lapped it a little as she walked towards the canary’s cage.

Just then a noise was heard from the china-closet, and Tom at once went
to see what it was.

“Why, there’s a mouse-hole right in the corner of that upper shelf,” he
said; “I thought it sounded like a mouse gnawing.”

“Rats! rats!” called the parrot, whose cage hung in the window by the
side of the canary’s.

“You’re mistaken, ma’am,” said Tom; “the barn-cat doesn’t give the rats
a chance to come into the house,--they live in the barn.”

“Rats!” again cried the parrot.

Posy went up to the parrot’s cage and looked in.

“How do you do? How’s your mother?” asked the parrot, with her head on
one side.

“Pretty well, I thank you, Mrs. Polly,” answered Posy; and she couldn’t
resist the temptation of trying to seize the red feathers in Mrs.
Polly’s tail and give them a little tweak. Mrs. Polly always resented
such liberties, and made sudden dives at the chubby fingers; but Posy
had learned to be careful, and drew them out in time.

“You wouldn’t really bite Posy, would you?” asked the canary.

“No,” said Mrs. Polly, “I wouldn’t; but I guess you wouldn’t like to
have your tail pulled every time she gets a chance. It doesn’t hurt,
you know, but it’s very disagreeable. She steals the peanuts out of my
cage, too, and eats them. She’s a very mischievous child.”

“But she’s kind and good,” answered the canary.

Although this conversation took place between the birds, to the
children it seemed as if the canary sang his usual song and Polly
chattered in her accustomed way.

Just then Mr. and Mrs. Winton appeared, and the family took their
places at the breakfast-table.

Soon a slight rattling was heard among the dishes in the china-closet,
and Mr. Winton cautiously approached the closet door and suddenly
opened it. A large rat whisked into the hole Tom had discovered.

“We never had a rat in the house before,” said Mr. Winton, as he
returned to his seat; “I am afraid the house-cat doesn’t do her duty. I
never thought her so good a ratter as the barn-cat.”

“Michael must stop up the hole at once with broken glass and mortar,”
said Mrs. Winton; “I can’t have rats in the house.”

“Posy, run into the kitchen and see if Hannah has any more muffins,”
said Papa; for Katie, who had been both waitress and nurse to Posy, had
been gone a few days, and her place had not been supplied.

“How long that child stays!” said Papa, when some minutes had elapsed
and she did not return.

“Hannah is rather slow,” answered Mamma, “and perhaps the muffins were
not quite ready.”

A few minutes more passed, but no Posy appeared.

“What can that thumping be?” said Mamma. “I can’t imagine what Hannah
can be doing. I have heard it for some time. Do run and see what it
means, Tom.”

“I shouldn’t wonder if Posy were up to some mischief,” said Tom, as he
disappeared.

“What in the world can that boy be doing?” exclaimed Papa, after they
had waited some time and neither of the children appeared.

“I will see what the trouble is,” said Mamma; but before she rose from
her seat Tom reappeared, laughing, and leading Posy, who appeared
somewhat confused as she resumed her seat in silence.

“What do you suppose Posy has been doing?” said Tom. “She found Hannah
down cellar getting coal, and she locked her down; and then she took
the house-kittens and dipped their heads in the pitcher of milk on the
table and made ’em drink, and then she brought in the barn-kittens and
made them drink too. Hannah said Posy made believe she didn’t hear when
Hannah pounded on the door and told Posy to let her out. She said she
heard Posy running backward and forward, hurrying to get through before
anybody came.”

“Well,” said Posy, “kittens have to be teached to drink milk, you know.”

Papa laughed, as he was very apt to do when he heard of Posy’s
mischief; but when Mamma shook her head at him he stopped and tried to
look very serious.

“It was very naughty of you to lock Hannah down cellar, Posy,” he said;
“you see I can’t have any more muffins, for it’s time for me to go for
the train.”

Posy looked very sad to think she had been the cause of so much
trouble, and Papa could never bear to see his little girl unhappy; so
he caught her in his arms and kissed her, saying,--

“But I can’t help loving you, if you _are_ naughty.”

“Hannah,” said Posy, as Hannah entered to take away the breakfast, “my
papa says it was very naughty in me to lock you down cellar, but that
he loves me still.”

“Michael,” said Mr. Winton, as the horse was brought around to the door
to take him to the depot, “the rats gnawed a hole through the wall in
the china-closet last night, and I want you to stop it up with mortar
and broken glass.”

“All right, sir,” answered Michael. “If the barn-cat could be in two
places to onst, it’s no rats ye’d have in the house. She’s a rale
knowing baste, is the barn-cat. If you could only see the sinsible way
she has wid them kittens of hers. She kapes thim out of doors in foine
weather; and when the jew begins to fall, if it’s shut the door is, she
kapes thim walking about, for fear it’s a cold they’ll get.”

“Let’s go and see them,” said Tom; and off ran the children as Mr.
Winton stepped into the carriage and drove off.

Then, when all was still in the dining-room, a slight noise might have
been heard in the china-closet, and a long nose and a pair of very
sharp black eyes appeared in the now rat-hole.

Looking cautiously around, and stopping every minute to listen, the rat
ventured out. He was quite gray about the mouth from age, and had a
particularly vicious look in his shrewd old eyes. Finding all still, he
ventured out a little farther, and still farther, and at last slid down
from the shelf and entered the dining-room.

Mrs. Polly’s quick ears had heard him, and she watched him as he
noiselessly moved about, picking up the crumbs that had fallen from the
table.

“Hallo!” called out Mrs. Polly.

“Speak a little louder while you’re about it,” snarled the old rat, who
had started at the sound of her voice and listened anxiously to hear if
there were danger of detection; and as he spoke he gave a very vicious
grin that displayed his long yellow teeth, with one of the front ones
broken.

“I haven’t time to sit for my portrait this morning,” resumed the old
rat, as Mrs. Polly continued to gaze steadfastly at him. “You’ll know
me the next time you see me, I hope!”

“I know you already,” said Mrs. Polly; “you’re Graywhisker.”

“Whew!” exclaimed the old rat, with another grin that showed the broken
front tooth; “there’s nothing like being famous.”

“I’ve heard of you from my friend the barn-cat,” said Mrs. Polly. “She
has known you a long time, she says, but you don’t care to become very
intimate with her;” and Mrs. Polly gave a short laugh that was very
irritating to Graywhisker’s nerves.

“The old fiend!” he exclaimed angrily; “of all the meddlesome old--”

“Don’t get excited,” said Mrs. Polly calmly.

“You’d better mind your own business,” answered the old rat, “or
you’ll find yourself in trouble. The barn-cat and you are two very
different individuals, and I shan’t stand on ceremony with you, I can
assure you.”

“Do stand on ceremony with me,” said Mrs. Polly, with another laugh.

Graywhisker brought his teeth savagely together; but Mrs. Polly kept
her cold gray eye on him in such a very unconcerned manner that he
evidently thought better of his intention and resumed his search for
food.

“Mean people these,” he muttered; “not a scrap left. Come, don’t be
stingy, Mrs. Polly; give me one of your peanuts there. I don’t know
when I’ve tasted a peanut,--not since the day Posy left a few and went
into the house for a glass of water. She didn’t find many left when she
came back, though.”

“Come and get one if you want it,” said Mrs. Polly, eying five freshly
roasted peanuts that lay on the bottom of her cage.

Graywhisker watched her shrewdly for an instant, but couldn’t determine
from her expressionless countenance whether she really meant what she
said.

“It’s easy enough to pick one out,” he said to himself as he began to
climb the drapery that hung by the parrot’s cage.

Mrs. Polly watched him as he nimbly pulled himself up, and sat with her
head inclined slightly forward, following every motion of his. When
opposite the cage, he seized it with one of his forepaws, and with the
other tried to fish out a particularly fat peanut; but before he could
draw it out Mrs. Polly’s sharp beak pounced down on the paw, and he
gave a squeal of pain.

“Did it taste as well as those you stole from Posy?” asked Mrs. Polly.

“You old vixen!” began Graywhisker, “you--”

“Don’t swear,” said Mrs. Polly coolly.

The canary had been a silent spectator all this time, and hardly dared
to breathe; but when Mrs. Polly pounced on the old rat’s paw she gave a
nervous flutter.

“Oh! I hadn’t noticed you before, my friend,” exclaimed Graywhisker,
with his horrible grin; “you’re a very tender morsel, and I’m not a bit
afraid of your soft little beak;” and the old villain began to descend
the curtain on Mrs. Polly’s side and ascend the one that hung by the
canary’s cage.

Poor Dicky was completely paralyzed with terror. Up came the gray nose
and wicked-looking eyes nearer and nearer, and yet poor Dicky sat
without stirring, his terrified eyes fastened on the horrible monster
that could crush him with one grasp of his paw. At last he was opposite
the cage, and was about to reach out his paw to seize it, when the
spell that kept Dicky silent seemed broken, and he fluttered about,
uttering cries of terror. The strong paw still held the cage, and the
other paw reached in between the wires; but as the frightened bird, in
his agitation, fluttered within reach of the relentless paw, Mrs. Polly
gave a shrill whistle, and then another louder still.

A rustling was heard in the bushes outside the window, and at the
sound Graywhisker descended the curtain and scurried into the closet,
disappearing into his hole as the house-cat, with gleaming eyes, jumped
on the window-sill and glared around.

“Which way did he go?” she demanded.

The gray nose was pushed cautiously out of the hole, and a voice said,--

“Mrs. House-cat, did you ever get left?”

[Illustration: Graywhisker disappearing into his Hole]




CHAPTER II.


WHEN Posy caught up the kittens to carry them back to their nest in the
barn, it was no wonder that the barn-cat followed her with a distressed
and anxious countenance. Posy had been in such a hurry that she had
taken one of the barn-kittens and one of the house-kittens!

The barn-cat tried very hard to make the little girl understand
her mistake, and ran about her with her tail in the air and crying
dismally; but Posy didn’t understand, and ran back to the house after
putting the kittens in their nest. How the barn-cat did wish she could
speak! She looked at the kitten that belonged to the house-cat. It was
very pretty,--maltese, with a little white on the breast and about the
nose, very like its mother.

“It’s rather a good-looking kitten, there’s no doubt about that,” said
the barn-cat, “but to my mind not _half_ so pretty and cunning as my
little tiger-kitten that Posy left in the kitchen. That house-cat
doesn’t know how to bring up a family; she’ll spoil this one just as
she has all of her others. It’ll grow up as vain and indolent as she
is herself. I’m sure I don’t want it here. Come,” she said, poking the
kitten with her paw, “you just run home again, will you?”

The house-kitten didn’t seem to understand what the barn-cat said, for
she evidently thought the cat wanted to play with her, and she tried to
catch the big paw in both of her little ones.

“Well, you _are_ cunning,” said the barn-cat. “It’s too bad to have you
grow up a spoilt child. You’ll never be as smart as my kittens, of
course, but I’ve a great mind to keep you and see what you’ll make if
you are properly brought up.”

She didn’t like to show the kitten that she was watching her, for it
might make her vain; so she pretended to be looking very intently at
something out in the yard and gently moved the tip of her tail, but she
looked out of the corners of her eyes and saw the little house-kitten
at once try to catch it.

“Pretty well,” she said to herself, “considering you’ve never had any
instruction. When you’re a little older I’ll teach you how to crouch
and spring, the way I do my own kittens.”

Now that the barn-cat had decided to keep the house-kitten, she
set about washing it; for Posy had dipped its head so far into the
milk-pitcher that it presented a very untidy appearance.

She washed it in a most thorough manner; but the barn-cat was not
so gentle in her ways as the house-cat, and the little house-kitten
thought her pretty rough.

“You mustn’t be a baby and cry for nothing,” said the barn-cat, when
the kitten gave a mew as the rough tongue lifted her off her feet; “I
see you’ve been coddled too much already.”

Just then a plaintive cry was heard from the kitchen, and with one leap
the barn-cat was out of her nest and running up to the kitchen door.
She didn’t dare go in; for there was Hannah, and she knew by experience
that she would be driven out if she attempted to enter. What _was_ to
be done?

The barn-cat jumped on the window-sill and looked in. There was her
darling in the box by the stove and crying helplessly for her. The
mother cat gave a low mew, which the baby kitten heard and understood
just as a human baby understands when its mother speaks soothingly to
it.

“Oh dear!” exclaimed the barn-cat, “if I could only get into that
kitchen! I know what I’ll do. I’ll tell Mrs. Polly about it, and see
what she advises; she’s very wise.”

So the barn-cat jumped down from the kitchen window and on the sill of
the dining-room window, which stood open. Posy was in the room, and
so was Mrs. Winton; but they couldn’t understand the language animals
converse in.

“Why, there is the barn-cat,” cried Posy, “right on the window-seat!”

“Don’t frighten her away, but watch her quietly,” said Mamma; “I like
to have her come about the house;” and Posy was very careful not to
make any noise.

“I do believe that barn-cat is telling Polly something, Mamma,” said
Posy in a low tone; “her keeps mewing, and Polly looks just as if her
was listening.”

“Polly is certainly very talkative this morning,” answered Mamma; “it
really does seem as if they were talking together.”

“I wish I knew what they were saying,” said Posy.

This is what they said:--

“I’m in trouble, Mrs. Polly,” began the barn-cat, “and I want you to
help me out of it.”

“Well,” answered Polly, with her very wisest expression, “what’s the
matter?”

Then the barn-cat told about Posy’s mistake, and how anxious it made
her to have her kitten away from her.

“It’s just like Posy,” answered Polly; “she’s a very mischievous child.
She always tweaks my tail whenever she gets a chance.”

“But she’s a dear, loving child,” said the barn-cat warmly. “How she
did cry when they gave away my last kittens!”

“Yes, she’s a good little thing,” said Polly. “If ’twas anybody else
that pulled my tail, I’d give ’em such a nip that they wouldn’t try it
again in a hurry; but nobody could hurt Posy. She does fish some of my
peanuts out of my cage and eat ’em up sometimes, but then she doesn’t
mean any harm.”

“What I want to know is whether you can think of any way for me to get
my kitten back,” said the barn-cat. “I tried to make Posy understand
what a dreadful mistake she’d made, but she was in such a hurry she
didn’t see it.”

Mrs. Polly put her head on one side in a very knowing and contemplative
manner. After a few moments’ reflection she said, “The thing to do is
to get Hannah out of the kitchen for a while.”

“That’s very evident,” said the canary, who had been listening
attentively and didn’t like to be left out of the conversation.

“If it’s so very evident,” said Mrs. Polly, bristling up, “why don’t
you do it?”

“I didn’t say _I_ could do it; but if I could talk as you can, I
would,” answered the canary good-naturedly.

“How would you do it, pray?” asked Mrs. Polly in an irritable tone.

“Why, I’d call Hannah the way Mrs. Winton does. I heard you call her
the other day, and I declare I wouldn’t have believed it wasn’t she. I
never knew a bird that could talk as plainly as you do.”

The canary was so good-natured that Mrs. Polly was rather ashamed of
her ill-temper, and gave a sneeze and cough to hide her embarrassment.

“Well,” she said, after a pause, “perhaps that’s as good a way as any
other. I _did_ think of yelling to make her think I’d got my head
caught between the wires, but Posy doesn’t like to hear such a noise.
You go ’round to the kitchen door,” she said to the barn-cat; “and
when Hannah leaves the kitchen you just dart in, seize your kitten, and
run off with it.”

The barn-cat hardly waited to hear the last words, and ran around to
the kitchen door. She had hardly arrived there when she heard Polly
call “Hannah!” so exactly like Mrs. Winton that Hannah dropped the
broom with which she was sweeping the floor, and answering, “Yes,
ma’am,” hurried into the dining-room.

In darted the barn-cat, caught up her darling in her mouth, and had it
back in her own nest in the barn before Hannah had discovered how Polly
had “fooled” her, as she called it.

But when the house-cat came home from her visit, imagine what was her
surprise and grief to find one of her babies gone!

“That barn-cat!” she exclaimed, “I believe she has stolen it because
it’s so much prettier than her common-looking babies. She was always
as jealous as she could be of them!” and out to the barn went the
house-cat.

“I never visited her before,” she said to herself, “she’s so
countrified in her ways and lives in a barn; but I must see if she’s
got my baby.”

The barn-cat knew what she was coming for as soon as she caught sight
of her.

“I want my kitten,” said the house-cat, going up to the box; and she
stepped very daintily and held her head very high, as if she were
afraid of soiling her shining fur. “I should think you’d be ashamed
of yourself to slink into the house and steal my kitten! But I don’t
suppose you know any better, as you’ve never been used to good society.”

“I didn’t steal your kitten! I don’t want your old kitten; it isn’t
half so smart or pretty as mine are.”

“Indeed!” answered the house-cat with a toss of her head. “Your
common-looking tiger-kittens! Look at my baby’s soft skin and her
gentle little ways!”

“I’ll leave it to Posy if mine are not the smartest and handsomest,”
answered the barn-cat angrily. “They had hard work to get anybody to
take your kittens the last time, and mine were spoken for before they
had their eyes open!”

The house-cat was very angry, but she knew there was truth in what
the barn-cat said; so she only repeated, “Indeed!” in a very scornful
manner, and tossed her head.

“You coddle your children too much,” continued the barn-cat. “You keep
them by the warm stove, and don’t take them out doors often enough.
That makes them tender.”

“When I want your advice I’ll ask for it,” answered the house-cat
loftily, as she took up her kitten and went home with it.

“It was a pretty enough kitten, though I wasn’t going to tell her so,”
said the barn-cat to herself. “I think I could have made a smart kitten
of it, but it will only be spoiled now;” and the barn-cat sighed as she
lapped a rough spot on one of her kitten’s ears.

“Meaw! meaw!” was heard in plaintive tones just outside the barn-door.
It was a new voice, and the barn-cat quickly sprang up to see what was
the matter. On the step of the barn-door sat a little gray kitten with
a rough and muddy fur, who looked as if she had travelled a long way.
She kept uttering sad little mews; and as she turned her head towards
the barn-cat the latter saw that she was blind.

[Illustration: The Blind Kitten]




CHAPTER III.


“WELL, where did you come from, I should like to know?” asked the
barn-cat sharply; for the little gray kitten didn’t present a very
respectable appearance, and she was very particular about the company
her family kept.

“Oh! I’ve come a long, long way,” said the gray kitten in a sad little
voice, “all the way from the other side of the town, and I am very
tired.”

“Why didn’t you stay at home?” said the barn-cat. “Home’s the best
place for young people.”

“I haven’t got any home,” sighed the gray kitten.

“That’s a likely story,” said the barn-cat shortly. “Where’s your
mother? She must be a nice kind of a mother not to provide a home for
her children. Every cat can do that.”

“I haven’t got any mother,” said the little gray kitten sadly.

The barn-cat gave her nose a sharp rub with her paw,--a habit she had
when her feelings were touched.

“Well, you live somewhere, I suppose. Who gives you food? You can’t
live on air.”

“Last night I slept in a hollow tree,” said the gray kitten, “and I
assure you I don’t get much to eat. If it hadn’t been for a little girl
sharing her food with me, I should have starved long ago, for I am
’most blind and can’t see well enough to make my own living.”

“I should like to hear your story,” said the barn-cat, “and then we’ll
see what can be done for you. Let me see--” and she rubbed her ear in
a contemplative way. “I think we’d better let Mrs. Polly and the canary
hear your story, too. They are both pretty wise, and three heads are
better than one any day. There comes that house-cat; she’s nobody.”

So the barn-cat led the way to the open window where the parrot’s and
canary’s cages were hanging.

“What under the sun have you got there?” asked Mrs. Polly, eying the
poor little gray kitten shrewdly.

The barn-cat had jumped on the window-seat, but the gray kitten had
modestly seated herself on the ground under the window. The house-cat,
too, had joined the group, and placed herself where she could watch the
little gray kitten. She stared at the poor little thing so scornfully
that she didn’t know which way to look; so she looked on the ground
and presented a very miserable appearance indeed, with her soiled and
rumpled fur and her poor half-blind eyes.

“Where did you pick her up?” asked Mrs. Polly.

“I don’t know much more about her than you do,” answered the barn-cat.
“I found her a few minutes ago on the door-step of the barn, and she
tells me she has come from the other side of the town, and that she
hasn’t any mother. I thought you’d better see her and hear her story,
and perhaps you’d think of something that could be done for her.”

Mrs. Polly put on her wise look and gave a little Ahem! for it always
gratified her to be looked up to and asked for advice.

Meanwhile the house-cat sat staring the poor gray kitten out of
countenance. “_My_ advice is to send her back where she came from,”
she said. “Anybody can see that she’s only a tramp. I won’t have _my_
children taught any of her common ways. Besides, there are too many
cats around already,” she added, eying the barn-cat so scornfully that
it was very evident she referred to her and her kittens.

“Whoever she is and wherever she comes from, it’s as plain as the nose
on your face that she’s been well brought up,” answered the barn-cat
quickly. “She’s quiet and lady-like in her manners, and that’s more
than can be said of some who’ve had the best of advantages.”

“She’s a common kitten, probably brought up in a barn,” said the
house-cat contemptuously, “and has no style whatever.”

This was too much for the barn-cat’s endurance, and she gave an angry
spit, when the canary, who was always the peace-maker, interposed.

“Whatever she may be,” said the canary gently, “she’s neglected and
unfortunate; so, if Mrs. Polly will find out her story, I’m sure she
will find a way to help her out of her troubles. If her wise head
can’t, I don’t know whose can.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Polly, “I should have done so long ago if our friends
here hadn’t taken up so much time in disputing. Now, little gray
kitten, tell us all you know about yourself,--where you were born, and
how it happens that you are left alone in this big world to take care
of yourself.”

“I can’t remember very much about myself,” began the little gray kitten
in a plaintive voice, “but I know we were always poor. My mother worked
very hard to support us, for the woman who kept us was very mean and
never gave us anything to eat. I have heard my mother say she was the
meanest woman she ever knew. She said she had heard her say that she
kept a cat to get rid of the rats and mice, and that she expected her
to earn her own living.”

“Well,” interrupted the barn-cat, “that is all very well for a single
cat; but when a cat has a young family it comes pretty hard to keep
them supplied with food. I never let my children eat mice; it doesn’t
agree with them,--gives ’em the stomach-ache and makes ’em fitty.”

“It’s no harm to give ’em a mouse to play with,” said the house-cat; “I
often do mine.”

“When you catch one, which isn’t often,” said the barn-cat in an
undertone.

“What was that you said?” asked the house-cat sharply; “be kind enough
to say it a little louder.”

“Oh, come, come,” put in the canary, “do let the gray kitten go on with
her story. You were telling us that your mother had to catch all the
food for you.”

“Yes,” continued the little gray kitten, “so she did. She often brought
us mice, and sometimes a bird,--birds agreed best with us, she said.”

“Dear me!” exclaimed the canary with a shudder, “what a very
bloodthirsty cat your mother must have been!”

“Excuse me, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” said the little gray
kitten, so politely that Mrs. Polly said to herself with a little nod
of satisfaction,--

“Very well brought up, indeed!”

“Go on, my dear, with your story,” said Mrs. Polly, aloud. “How many
were there of you?”

“There were only my brother and myself,” answered the little gray
kitten. “My mother said there were two others, but they died very
young,--before they had their eyes open. She said she thought they
didn’t have enough to eat.”

“Well, how about your mother? I’m anxious to hear about her,” said the
barn-cat.

“It makes me very sad to think about it,” continued the little gray
kitten, almost crying. “One day my mother told me and my brother that
she was going to teach us how to hunt. It was the first time we had
been out of doors; we lived in an old shed. It was a very pleasant day,
and the air was so fresh, and the birds did look so tempting-- I beg
your pardon,” she added, as the canary began to flutter nervously.

“Never mind; go on with your story,” said the canary good-naturedly.
“It’s your nature; you aren’t to blame.”

The little gray kitten was so embarrassed by this interruption that she
forgot where she had left off in her story; but then she was so very
little!

“You were saying,” said Mrs. Polly, “that your mother took you out of
doors to teach you to hunt.”

“Oh yes,” answered the gray kitten, “so I was. Well, it was very
pleasant, and we enjoyed ourselves very much, and I caught a little
field-mouse, and so did my brother; and our mother praised us, and said
that after all perhaps we would turn out smarter cats than if we had
been brought up to have everything we wanted, for then we might have
become lazy.”

“Very true, indeed,” interrupted the barn-cat, with a triumphant glance
at the house-cat. “Your mother must have been a very sensible cat!”

“Well, then what happened, little one?” asked Mrs. Polly; for the gray
kitten was again thrown off her balance by the interruption.

“The next is very sad, indeed,” said the gray kitten. “We were going
home, so happy to think our dear mother was so pleased with us, when
all at once we heard a dreadful noise. My brother and I were frightened
half to death, for we had never heard a noise like it. My mother said
it was a dog, and there was a boy with it,--a bad boy; my mother said
all boys were bad--”

“Not _all_ boys,” said the barn-cat. “Tom isn’t a bad boy; he wouldn’t
hurt a kitten for the world. I’d trust him anywhere with my kittens.”

“He isn’t so mischievous as Posy is,” said the house-cat.

“Posy isn’t mischievous,” said the barn-cat warmly; “she doesn’t mean
to do mischief. You can’t call it mischief when she thinks she’s doing
something to help you all the time.”

“Please don’t interrupt so often,” said the canary; “you said, little
kitten, that a big dog and a boy came up.”

“Yes,” continued the little gray kitten; “and as soon as the boy saw
us he said, ‘Hie, Rover, seize ’em, sir!’ and the big dog, looking,
oh, so fierce and angry, rushed at us with his mouth wide open, and
making that dreadful noise. There was a tree near us, and my mother
told my brother and me to climb up the tree as quickly as we could. My
poor mother gave us the first chance, for she knew we couldn’t climb as
well as she could, and she stood at the foot of the tree with her fur
all bristling up and spitting at the big dog. We got up to the first
branches where the dog couldn’t reach us; but before my poor mother had
time to follow us the big dog seized her, and gave her one shake and
killed her.”

Her hearers were very quiet as the little gray kitten ceased and sat
crying softly to herself. The barn-cat gave her nose a sharp rub with
her paw, and then jumped down and examined very carefully a hole under
the window, as if she expected to find a mouse there. Her feelings were
very much touched, for she couldn’t help thinking how dreadful it would
be if her little kittens were left without a mother to care for them.

“Well,” she said, after a pause, coming back to her place on the
window-sill, “what did your brother and you do then?”

“We waited till the boy and the big dog were gone,” said the little
gray kitten, “and then we climbed down from the tree and went home. It
was very lonely in the old shed, and we almost starved to death, for
we were too small to catch mice enough to satisfy our appetites. My
brother got tired of living so, and said he was going to try to find a
better home where they would feed him, but I stayed where I was.”

“How about that girl you said used to feed you?” asked the house-cat.

“She was a poor little girl who didn’t have any mother either, and the
woman I belonged to made her work hard and gave her very little to eat;
but she pitied me, and often went hungry herself to share her food with
me.”

“What made your eyes so bad, my dear?” asked Mrs. Polly kindly.

“I think it must have been the cold; it was very cold in the shed.”

There was a few minutes’ silence, and then Mrs. Polly said,--

“I have been thinking the matter over, and I believe the best thing to
do is to get Posy to help us. You put yourself in the way where she’ll
see you,” she said to the little gray kitten, “and all will be well.”

[Illustration: The poor little girl and the blind kitten.--_Page_ 45.]




CHAPTER IV.


POSY and Tom were seated on the kitchen door-step, and the two
house-kittens lay in Posy’s lap. Posy was in a very thoughtful mood,
and sat watching the kittens in silence.

“I’ve been wondering, Tom,” she said at last, “where God keeps his
babies that haven’t got any wings.”

“Why, babies don’t ever have wings, Posy,” said Tom.

“Yes, they do, the angel babies. I mean the ones he brings down here to
people.”

“Oh!” said Tom, “I suppose he has some nice place to keep ’em in.”

“I should think,” said Posy thoughtfully, “that we might see Him when
he goes around from house to house.”

“Why, of course we can’t,” answered Tom decidedly.

Posy played with the kittens in her lap.

“Come, Kitty, and have your bonnet on,” she said, folding her
handkerchief over the head of one of the kittens and tying it under
her chin. “Poor thing, you haven’t got a single dress after your name,
and I must make you one. And I guess I’d better make some little
cow-catchers around your forehead; they are very becoming to your
little rosy face.”

“Cow-catchers!” laughed Tom. “You mean beau-catchers! What a little
goosie you are, Posy!”

“I know that just as well as you can,” answered Posy, blushing; and she
thought it best to turn the conversation.

“Tom,” she said, “I guess I shall marry you when I’m grown up,--either
you or Papa.”

“People can’t marry their fathers!” said Tom, with an air of superior
wisdom, “because they’ve got married already, you know.”

“Well, then, I shall marry you, because I love you so much. People can
marry their brothers, can’t they, Tom?”

“I don’t know about that,” answered Tom shrewdly.

“Well, then, let me see--who shall I marry? I _did_ think of marrying
Mary Weston, but her’s married already, you know. I guess I’ll marry
Mr. Dawson.”

“I know why,” said Tom quickly; “it’s because he’s got some puppies!
Oh, you selfish girl!”

“I don’t care,” said poor Posy in a very crestfallen manner; “I’d give
you one of the puppies, Tom.”

“I guess Mr. Dawson will be out of the world long before you’re ready
to git married, Posy,” said Hannah, who had been listening to the
conversation between the children; “he must be nigh onto seventy if
he’s a day. Well, Tom, who do you intend to marry?”

“If I marry for love,” answered Tom, “I shall marry Auntie; but if I
marry for money, I shall marry Katie Thomas, because her father’s got
more money than old Mr. Thornton, and he’s got a hundred dollars in the
bank.”

“Well, I never!” said Hannah; “but I guess I’d better be about my work.
I wish that lazy Michael would bring me in some wood. He grows worse
every day. I bet he’s asleep somewhere,--he usually _is_ asleep when
there’s anything to be done.”

“He’s gone to get Major shod,” said Tom; “I saw him go down the yard
with him.”

“There he comes!” said Posy, as a man appeared leading a handsome
chestnut horse up the yard.

“Good-morning, Michael,” called Posy when he was opposite the kitchen
door.

“Good-morning, Miss,” answered Michael.

“Have you had a nap to-day, Michael?” asked Posy in her sweetest way.

“No, Miss,” answered Michael, as he led the horse into the barn.

“That child does beat anything I ever see,” said Hannah, laughing, as
she went about her work again.

Suddenly a dreadful noise was heard from the direction of the
dining-room window,--shrieks as if somebody were in great distress.

“Polly’s got her head caught between the wires,” cried Tom, jumping
up and running around to the window. Posy quickly dumped the kittens
into their nest and followed him as fast as she could. As soon as they
appeared Polly burst into a loud laugh.

“The next time I shan’t believe you, ma’am, you’ve fooled me so many
times,” said Tom.

“Oh, Tom,” cried Posy, “look, see! see this poor little gray kitten!
Poor thing, her’s awful thin, and her looks as if her didn’t have any
home.”

“Why, she’s blind!” said Tom. “Poor kitty, come, I won’t hurt you;”
and he lifted the little gray kitten very gently, and sat down on the
piazza step softly stroking it.

“Her isn’t one bit afraid of us,” said Posy, seating herself beside Tom
and stroking the kitten too. “Her knows we won’t hurt her, don’t her,
Tom?”

The little gray kitten had heard all about the children, and felt
perfectly secure with them.

“Her’s purring!” cried Posy joyfully. “I mean to ask Mamma if I can
keep her.” And off ran Posy to Mamma’s room.

“There’s a poor little gray kitten out doors, Mamma,” said Posy, all
out of breath from hurrying, “and her’s blind of one eye. Can’t I keep
her and take care of her? Her looks like her didn’t have any home at
all.”

“Yes,” said Mamma, “you may ask Hannah to give you a saucer of milk for
her.”

“Her’s blind of _both_ eyes,” cried Posy, bursting into tears; “but I
thought you wouldn’t let me keep her if you knew it.”

“Why, my dear little girl,” answered Mamma, drawing Posy to her side,
“I love to have you kind to animals, and particularly so to those that
are helpless and can’t take care of themselves. Don’t cry, my darling,
you shall give this poor little kitten a comfortable home, and make
her as happy as if she were not blind.”

“But it makes me feel bad to think her can’t see,” said Posy, sobbing.

“Think, my darling, how much more comfortable you can make her than she
has ever been before; and perhaps it is not so bad as you think,--she
may not be wholly blind.”

So Mamma put down her sewing, and went with Posy to look at the little
gray kitten, who all this time had been purring away contentedly in
Tom’s lap.

“Oh no,” said Mamma, “she isn’t wholly blind, she can see out of one
eye; and we will bathe her eyes with some warm water and a soft sponge,
and she will feel as comfortable as possible.”

“I knew how it would be,” said the parrot to the canary, as the kitten
was carried off to the kitchen to be fed.

“Kind people, every one of them,” answered the canary, hopping about
for joy. “Hallo! what’s the barn-cat up to? Do look at her!”

The barn-cat was creeping cautiously along the yard, her body almost
touching the ground and her eyes glowing with eagerness. Sometimes
she stopped for an instant and swished her tail excitedly, then went
on again. The canary and Mrs. Polly soon saw what it was that excited
her so. A little sparrow sat on a stone a few rods off, pluming his
feathers in a very unconcerned manner. The barn-cat stopped and
wriggled her body for a final spring, when all at once Mrs. Polly
screamed out, “Scat! scat!” in so loud a voice and so exactly like a
human being that the barn-cat stopped in her spring and the sparrow
flew up into a bush opposite the dining-room window.

Certainly the sparrow was a very rowdy-looking bird. His feathers were
rumpled and many of them broken, and he had a very independent air
that was a great contrast to the refined manner of the well-kept canary.

“Who are you, pray?” asked Mrs. Polly, eying the new-comer curiously.

“Can’t you see?” answered the sparrow in a hoarse voice.

“It’s very evident you’re a tramp,” said Mrs. Polly. “What do you want
here?”

“I didn’t know you’d got a lease of the place, or I wouldn’t have
come,” answered the sparrow pertly.

“Come now, keep a civil tongue in your head,” said Mrs. Polly. “You’ll
find it to your advantage. Where do you live?”

“Wherever I can. Sometimes in one place, sometimes in another.”

“That looks bad,” said Mrs. Polly gravely. “Did you ever hear the
proverb that ‘rolling stones gather no moss’?”

“Now look here, Mrs. Parrot, I haven’t asked anything of you, and I
ain’t going to. I acknowledge I’m a tramp, if having no home makes a
bird one. I get my food where I can, but I don’t do anybody any harm.
If I prefer to live that way, whose business is it but my own?”

“You’ve been fighting, I see,” said Mrs. Polly gravely; “’tisn’t
respectable.”

“Now look here, ma’am! You’re kept in a cage, and have your food given
you regular, and don’t have to trouble yourself about where your next
meal is to come from. I live where I can, pick up my own meals where
I can find ’em; if I can’t find ’em I go without. I sleep out in all
kinds of weather, and that makes my feathers rough and my voice hoarse;
but I want you to understand that I’m just as good a fellow as if I had
a red tail and a hooked nose.”

“That’s very true,” said the good-natured canary, “I should like to
make your acquaintance. You go about so much you must see and hear a
good many things that we don’t.”

“Well, I guess I could tell you a thing or two that would make your
feathers curl,” answered the stranger.

Just then the children came along with the little gray kitten that had
been washed and fed, and seated themselves on the steps of the piazza.

“Hallo!” called out the sparrow to the little gray kitten, “how in the
world did you turn up here?”

“Do you know her?” asked Mrs. Polly.

“Well, I should rather think I did, seeing as I have lived, as you
might say, in the same family.”

“How is little Nancy?” asked the little gray kitten. “I have worried a
good deal about that child since I left home. That’s the little girl I
told you was so kind to me,” she said in explanation to the parrot.

“She’s well,” answered the sparrow, “but I pity the poor thing with
all my heart. This morning she came out and sat on the door-step, and
I saw she was crying, and she says to me, ‘Billy’ (she always called
me Billy), ‘I can’t give you anything to eat this morning because I
haven’t got anything myself, and I didn’t get any supper last night
either, Billy, because I couldn’t sell any matches.’ She didn’t know
I sensed what she was saying, but I did. Look here! You seem pretty
well off around here. I see the little gray kitten has fallen into good
hands. Can’t you do something for a poor child that’s half starved and
abused?”

“Oh, do, Mrs. Polly!” said the little gray kitten. “You were so kind
to me, do find some way to get that poor little Nancy with these good
people.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Polly, “I’ll think it over and see what can be done
about it.”

“How loud this gray kitten does purr,” said Posy. “I guess her’s
telling us how happy her is to get here, don’t you, Tom?”

[Illustration: “Posy and Tom were seated on the kitchen
door-step.”--_Page_ 47.]




CHAPTER V.


THE next morning Major, the horse, was eagerly eating his breakfast of
nice fresh oats. He was an easy-tempered fellow, but this morning he
was greatly annoyed, and with good reason; he was very hungry and must
share his breakfast with several rats that were bold enough to venture
into his manger and steal his oats from before his very eyes.

“I do wish my friend the barn-cat would not take the opportunity to go
out while I am eating,” said Major to himself. “I knew how it would
be when she told me she must go and see Mrs. Polly about this plan of
bringing that child Nancy here. ‘When the cat’s away the mice will
play;’ and what’s more, the rats too. Here, old Graywhisker, you come
any nearer and I’ll bite off your tail!”

“I’d like to see you do it,” snarled the old rat; and as he spoke he
showed his long yellow teeth with one of them broken off, which gave
him a very disagreeable expression. “I’d like to see you stop us from
eating a few of your oats. You’re too fat already; I heard Mr. Winton
tell Michael so the other day.”

“I should be loath to tell you what I’ve heard him say about you,”
answered Major angrily; “you wouldn’t sleep very well nights if I did.”

The old rat forgot his usual caution, and came nearer to Major’s face
than ever before; and Major, his patience gone, gave a sudden snort
and pushed them all out of the manger with his nose. Then when he was
left alone he went on eating his breakfast. After that he found himself
becoming very sleepy, and shutting his eyes he fell into a doze. As he
slept the old rat stole quietly out of his hole and looked cautiously
about.

“Come,” he said to the others, “come out on the barn floor, for I have
something of importance to say to you, and this is a good time, as
Major is asleep, and the barn-cat off. Here, you Silvertail, you keep a
sharp lookout in every direction, and tell me if you see the barn-cat
coming.”

The young rat addressed, quickly climbed on the window-sill, whence he
could command a fine view of the entrances to the barn.

“Do you see anything of the barn-cat?” asked the old rat.

“Yes, I see her right in front of the dining-room window; and by the
way she swishes her tail I know she’s talking pretty fast.”

“Well, let her swish,” answered the old rat; “she’ll find there are
some people in the world as smart as she is.”

The old rat, Graywhisker, seated himself, and the other rats came
flocking out of their holes and placed themselves in a circle about
him. Some of them brought their young families, as they couldn’t trust
them alone.

“I don’t see any of our friends the mice,” said Graywhisker, looking
about with his sharp old eyes. “Some of you young fellows run over to
Mrs. Silverskin, and tell her I want to see her at once; and be quick
about it too.”

Two young rats started off, and began to climb to the hay-mow, playing
tag on the way.

“Here, none of your fooling!” called out the old rat sharply, as one of
them gave a loud squeak.

This squeak awoke Major from his nap, and hearing voices his curiosity
was aroused. “I guess I’ll keep my ears open, and perhaps I shall hear
something,” he said to himself; “you can’t trust these rats out of
your sight.”

So Major made believe asleep, and even gave a snore occasionally to
mislead the rats; and he did completely mystify them.

Soon the two young rats returned, scampering headlong down from the
mow, and followed more leisurely by Mrs. Silverskin, who had a very
timid, gentle air, and who looked very small and refined by the side of
the great clumsy rats with their bold countenances.

“Now sit still and listen with all your ears,” began old Graywhisker,
“for I’ve something of importance to say, and our time is short, as
that arch fiend, the barn-cat, may return at any moment. To cut a long
matter short, the barn-cat has introduced another cat here. To be
sure, she’s half blind, and a half-grown kitten, but still she’s to be
dreaded. Then there’s been a sparrow loafing around here lately, and
they’re laying a plot this very minute to get a good-for-nothing girl
here, but we’ll put a stop to that. I hid under the piazza yesterday
and heard the whole story,--how this girl had fed the lazy sparrow and
the half-blind kitten (it’s good enough for her, and I wish she was
blind of both eyes), and how they must think of some way to get this
poor child among these good people. They’re talking it over now, and
I’ve set Sharpears to watch and tell me what they’ve said. The barn-cat
said that if they could arrange matters so that Posy could hear her
story, she would bring it all about. Posy, indeed! I hate that child!
She makes a dreadful fuss over all the other animals, but I heard her
say the other day to the barn-cat, ‘You mustn’t catch the pretty little
birdies, kitty, but you can catch just as many of the great ugly rats
as you’ve a mind to.’ I paid her off, though; I stole her piece of cake
that she laid down on the door-step when she went into the house, and
she felt awfully about it. It was real fun to see how disappointed she
was when she came back and found it gone.”

Here Mrs. Silverskin, who had sat meekly listening, spoke in a soft
little voice,--

“I don’t believe Posy could see any animal suffer. I saw her sprinkle
some crumbs down in front of a hole one day, and say, ‘These are for
the little mice to eat.’”

“Oh, yes! you take her part, do you?” said old Graywhisker, fiercely
glaring at the poor little mouse. “If that is your opinion, you just
clear out of my barn. I want you to understand that I won’t have any
hypocrites around these premises.”

“You can’t call me a hypocrite,” said the little mouse meekly; “I
only said that Posy was a kind-hearted child. I am sure I dislike
the barn-cat as much as you do, and it gives me great uneasiness to
think there’s another of that species on the premises if she is half
blind. I am afraid our children will get careless, thinking she can’t
see them, and some day venture too near. I am sure I shall never have
another easy moment;” and Mrs. Silverskin looked more anxious than ever.

“Here comes Sharpears creeping along this way,” called out Silvertail
from the window.

The whole company looked anxiously in the direction of their private
entrance, and Sharpears soon appeared at the opening.

“Well,” said old Graywhisker impatiently, “what did you hear?”

“In the first place,” began Sharpears, “Major has been complaining that
we eat too many of his oats. He says that when the barn-cat’s away we
bother him so that he can’t take any comfort in his eating.”

“He eats too much,” said Graywhisker; “that’s what’s the matter with
him. Just hear him snore! He’ll go off in a fit of apoplexy one of
these days! I wish he would!”

“The barn-cat said she did her best; that she knew the rats and mice
did take advantage of her absence, but that she was going to train the
gray kitten to watch while she was away.”

“We’ll fix that gray kitten,” snarled the old rat, bringing his long
yellow teeth together in a very unpleasant manner.

“After that they had a long talk about how they could bring it about to
get that child Nancy here that had fed the sparrow and the gray kitten.
Feeding the kitten, indeed! as if there were not cats enough around
already! When I came away they were talking about having the sparrow
entice her here some way or other.”

“Why didn’t you stay and hear it out?” said the old rat savagely. “I
thought you had more sense.”

“Well, all at once that disagreeable Polly (she’s always minding
everybody’s business but her own) said, ‘I do believe there’s a rat
under that piazza.’ I didn’t wait to hear any more, I can tell you, but
slunk off just as the barn-cat jumped down to find out where the noise
came from.”

“Here comes the barn-cat!” called out Silvertail from the window; and
instantly the whole company darted to their holes, as the barn-cat
appeared at the head of the stairs.

The barn-cat put her nose up in the air and sniffed. “Those rats and
mice have been about, sure as you live!” she said. “I must teach the
gray kitten to keep a sharp lookout while I’m away. Hallo!” she called
to Major, “how are you getting on?”

“All right,” answered Major; “I’ve important news for you. I made
believe asleep just now, and heard a thing or two. The rats know
exactly what you’re plotting, for they set a spy to listen to your
conversation this morning. They know you’re going to try to get that
girl here, and they’re going to stop it if they can, because she fed
the little gray kitten.”

“I’d like to see ’em do it,” said the barn-cat.

“They can annoy you, though, in a great many ways,” said Major; “and,
to tell the truth, I’m afraid they’re going to plot against the gray
kitten. They all seemed full of spite against her.”

“I’d like to see ’em touch a hair of her head!” exclaimed the barn-cat
ferociously.

“Here comes that dear child, Posy, with your breakfast,” said Major, as
Posy appeared, carrying a plate and followed by Tom with a saucer of
milk.

“Here, kitty,” called Posy; “I’ve brought you some nice milk and some
critters all cut up fine. Are they _critters_ or fritters?” she asked,
turning to Tom.

“_Fritters_, of course,” answered Tom. “You do manage to get things
twisted about, Posy. Papa says you are a real Mrs. Malaprop.”

“Kitty,” said Posy, putting her hand in her pocket and drawing out a
little package, “I have brought you the beautifulest present you ever
had in all your life;” and Posy began to undo the paper.

[Illustration: Major and Graywhisker.]




CHAPTER VI.


POSY undid the package, and took out a pretty collar of red leather
with a little padlock hanging from it.

“Come, kitty, and have on your new collar,” said Posy. “They say you’re
not so handsome as the house-cat, so I must make you look as well as I
can, and you’re dear if you’re not handsome.”

The barn-cat stood very still while Posy fitted on the collar and
fastened the padlock.

“It’s a little bit loose for you,” said Posy, “but that is better than
to have it too tight, isn’t it, Tom?”

“See how proud she feels,” said Tom; “she likes to hear the padlock
rattle when she moves.”

“It is really a very stylish affair,” said the barn-cat to herself,
“and I must smarten myself up a little. I wonder what the house-cat
will say now!”

“It’s pretty loose for her,” said Tom; “I’m afraid she’ll lose it off.
Let’s take it up another notch.”

“No,” said Posy decidedly; “Mamma said if it was too tight it would
make her uncomf’table.”

“Well, if she loses it, don’t bawl,” answered Tom.

“I shan’t bawl,” said Posy indignantly.

The children gave a look at the kittens, and then went away; and the
barn-cat ate her breakfast contentedly, stopping occasionally to give
her head a shake, that she might have the satisfaction of hearing the
padlock rattle.

That afternoon the barn-cat called the little gray kitten to her, and
told her she wanted her to keep watch while she went to fulfil a very
important engagement with Mrs. Polly and the canary.

“Take good care of the kittens, and don’t let the rats annoy Major
while he is eating. He complains a good deal of them lately.”

The little gray kitten promised to do all she was told; and off hurried
the barn-cat, having carefully washed herself and smoothed her fur as
neatly as she could.

While she was making these preparations, she did not see a pair of
sharp little black eyes watching all her movements from a beam above.

“I know what all this means,” said the owner of the sharp black eyes,
“but you have to get up pretty early to get the start of an old rat;”
and he smiled a very vicious smile that displayed his long yellow teeth
with one of them broken off.

“I guess I’d better go myself,” continued old Graywhisker; “these young
fellows are too giddy to be trusted, and after all we mustn’t expect
to find old heads on young shoulders;” and he stroked his gray beard
with a very satisfied air.

After the barn-cat had gone, he followed cautiously at a distance. He
knew better than to trust himself under the piazza again; so he wedged
himself into a space between the house and a large stone, just around
the corner, where he could hear without being detected. When he was
comfortably settled, he smiled again to himself to think how wise he
was.

“Well,” he heard Polly say, “here we are again, except the
sparrow,--he’s late.”

“Just as likely as not we’ll never see him again,” said the barn-cat.
“You can’t place any reliance on these tramps. I never did like his
looks, I must confess.”

“I don’t believe he’s a bad fellow at heart,” said the canary; “he
seemed very anxious to have that little girl taken care of, and very
grateful for what she did for him. Bad people are not grateful, you
know.”

“I wish he would settle down and become steady,” said Mrs. Polly, “but
I’m afraid there’s no hope of that. Yesterday a friend of his flying
by stopped and had a few minutes’ chat with me. He says the sparrow
has a wife and several children, but that he’s away half the time, and
neglects his family dreadfully, though he’s good enough to them when
he’s at home. It’s just as I suspected,--he’s lazy and shiftless.”

“Well, I confess, that’s just what I thought of him,” said the
barn-cat. “I never did fancy his looks from the first; but he’s useful
to us, and we must put up with his failings.”

A slight rustling in a neighboring bush made them all look in that
direction; and there sat the subject of their conversation, and judging
from the roguish twinkle in his eyes, he had evidently heard the whole
conversation.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” he said good-naturedly, “but was
detained on very important business. Hope I see you as well as usual,
ma’am, and that you haven’t missed me too much,” he said to the
barn-cat with a sly wink.

The barn-cat thought it more dignified not to answer this familiar
speech, and looked straight before her.

“Well,” said Mrs. Polly, “let’s make the most of our time now that we
are all together.”

“First of all,” said the barn-cat, “I want to tell you that yesterday
we were watched. Old Graywhisker had set a spy to listen to our
conversation, and he reported every word that was said. However, I’d
like to see him prevent us from carrying out our plans. I’ll just
give a look under the piazza before we begin; that’s where he was
yesterday, and the only place where he could hide.”

Graywhisker kept very still while the barn-cat investigated the piazza,
and hardly dared breathe; but when she returned to her place again,
saying, “There’s nobody there now, you may be sure of that,” he smiled
again, and placing his right paw against his nose waggled it in a very
exultant manner.

“Now,” said Mrs. Polly, “what we have to do is to decide how we can get
the child Nancy here. I have a plan of my own that I will mention, and
I’d like to have you express your opinions freely.”

Meanwhile the sparrow, who was seated on a slender branch opposite
the window, was amusing himself by standing first on one leg and then
on the other and having a fine see-saw all by himself. The barn-cat
watched him eagerly; and his motions were so graceful, and he was so
plump, that she quite forgot where she was, and sat swishing her tail
in a very tiger-like manner, and was about to give a spring when Mrs.
Polly’s keen eyes caught sight of her, and she called out,--

“Hallo there! what are you about?”

The barn-cat was really ashamed to have so forgotten herself, and was
greatly embarrassed.

“What can you expect of a cat that’s been brought up in a barn?” said
the house-cat scornfully. “That comes of letting such common people
associate with those who have been accustomed to good society!”

The barn-cat was not ready as usual with an answer to this taunt from
her enemy, for she knew she had been guilty of very great rudeness; and
Mrs. Polly, knowing that although her manners were rough her heart was
a very good one, kindly went on with her remarks:--

“The plan I have thought of is this: You have all of you seen how often
Posy sits on the piazza and cuts dolls’ dresses out of bright-colored
pieces of ribbon and silk. Now there is nothing in the world, I have
noticed, that pleases a little girl so much as those bright colors,
and we will take advantage of that. The next time Posy brings out her
ribbons we must get her out of the way long enough for one of you to
steal the prettiest one, and then the sparrow can use it to entice the
child Nancy with.”

“But who is to steal the ribbon?” asked the house-cat.

“I should say the sparrow was the one to do that,” answered Mrs. Polly;
“he can fly down and pick one out and fly off with it.”

“Very good,” said the sparrow; “but how are you going to make Posy
leave her ribbons long enough?”

“I’ve called ’em so many times lately,” said Mrs. Polly, “that they
begin to suspect me; and Tom said the other day that I had fooled him
so many times that he shouldn’t come again if I called. Let me see--”
and Mrs. Polly put on her very wisest expression.

“There’s one way we could fix it,” said the sparrow. “Here’s my friend
the barn-cat; she’s so fond of me she can’t have me near enough.
Suppose I place myself where Posy can see me, and the barn-cat can make
believe spring at me just as she did a few minutes ago. The dear thing!
we know she does it out of affection for me, but Posy will think she’s
in earnest.”

“A very good plan,” said Mrs. Polly. “Really quite a bright idea,” she
said in an undertone to the canary, “though it wouldn’t do to tell him
so, he’s so well satisfied with himself.”

The barn-cat had been very quiet since her attempt to spring at the
sparrow, but she occasionally scratched her neck with her paw to make
that fascinating padlock rattle. She did it in a very unconscious
manner, but she knew all the time that the house-cat was watching
her out of the corner of _her_ eye, and was secretly jealous of the
beautiful collar.

“That’s a very pretty collar you have on,” said the canary.

“A present from Posy,” answered the barn-cat.

“Very becoming to your complexion. ‘Neat, but not gaudy,’ as the monkey
said when they painted his tail sky-blue,” said the sparrow gallantly.

“Humph! red and yellow go well together,” sneered the house-cat. “It
brings out her _charming_ coloring!” and she gave a taunting laugh.

“Our friend always looks well to me,” said Mrs. Polly politely.

“Well, I guess you’re going to be sick,” said the canary, laughing.
“To think of your paying anybody a compliment!”

Mrs. Polly was about as much astonished as the others at such an
unusual occurrence, and gave a short laugh.

“To resume business,” she said. “Now, the first thing to do is for
the sparrow to fly back to the place where Nancy lives and find out
what’s going on, and when the best time will be for us to carry out our
project. _I_ should say ’twould be well to take some time when she’s
out selling her matches.”

“O. K.,” answered the sparrow. “I’ll tear myself away for a while
if you think you can spare me long enough, my dear,” he said to the
barn-cat.

“Get along with you!” said the barn-cat testily.

“Don’t be harsh to a fellow,” answered the sparrow. “You know, my dear
creature, that you’ll count the hours till I come back!”

“Count the fiddlesticks!” ejaculated the barn-cat, trying to look
stern, but very much inclined to smile at the fellow’s impudence.

“Give me a piece of your lump of sugar to take to the old lady,” he
said to the canary; “that will make it all right with her;” and he
helped himself to the lump that was wedged in between the bars of the
canary’s cage. “Now I’m off. Ta, ta, my love!” he said to the barn-cat
as he blew a kiss to her and was off like a shot.

[Illustration: Sparrow, the Tramp.]




CHAPTER VII.


THE sparrow flew away, holding the lump of sugar tightly in his claw.

“It’s a long time since I was at home,” he said to himself as he flew
along; “I don’t dare to think how long it is. The old lady’ll be pretty
hard to bring ’round, I suspect, but she’s a good little thing and will
make up before long. Let me see--the youngsters must be ’most ready to
fly by this time. ’Tis a shame, I declare, to neglect my family so.
Well, I guess I’ll take Mrs. Polly’s advice and settle down.”

He passed over a clear spring in the woods, and lit on the edge to
drink. As he stooped over to reach the fresh water he caught sight of
himself reflected in the smooth surface.

“Whew! I do look rather rowdy,” he said. “I think I’ll take a
dip,--there’s nothing that takes with the female sex like a little
attention to your personal appearance, and I flatter myself I’m not a
bad-looking fellow when I’m spruced up. So here goes!” and carefully
placing the lump of sugar on a stone, he ducked his head into the
fresh, clear water, and brought it out dripping.

Then he stepped in and splashed the water about with his wings, and
ducked his head till his feathers were heavy with water. He flew into
a bush and began pluming them carefully, and he certainly was _not_ a
bad-looking fellow when he had finished his toilet.

When he had smoothed out all his feathers he flew down to the edge of
the spring and looked in, and, judging from the little complacent nod
he gave and the dapper air with which he hopped to the stone where the
lump of sugar lay, he was evidently satisfied with the picture he saw
reflected.

“Now for home!” he said; and mounting into the air he circled a few
times over the spring, and then flew straight to his home, still
holding the lump of sugar securely in his little claw.

A small unpainted house stood back from the road. The whole place had a
dilapidated look,--the gate was off the hinges; most of the blinds were
gone, and those that were left were broken or hanging by one hinge; the
shingles were off the roof in many places; and panes of glass were gone
from many of the windows, the holes being filled up with bundles of
rags.

A shed that looked as if it were ready to tumble down at any moment
was built on to the back of the house; and a large elm, the only
pretty thing about the place, spread its drooping branches over the
moss-grown roof.

To this tree the sparrow made his way, and lighted on a branch before
a little bird-house which looked as much out of repair as the house
itself; for it seemed ready to fall apart at any moment, and the bits
of seaweed and straw and wool of which the nest was made, were hanging
out of the door in a most untidy manner. In fact, the whole structure
had an insecure appearance, as if a high wind might topple it over at
any moment.

A little bright-eyed sparrow stood in the doorway, and three small
sparrows from the nest inside opened their mouths wide and clamored
expectantly for something to eat as the sparrow lighted beside them.

“How do you do, my darling?” said the sparrow gayly, as he approached
his little bright-eyed wife for a kiss.

But instead of answering she turned her back towards him, and
looked straight before her with what she intended to be a very
severe expression; but the truth was, her natural expression was so
good-natured and pleasing that she didn’t succeed so well as she
thought she did.

“Hasn’t it one little kiss for its husband that’s been away so long?”
asked the sparrow, trying to get a view of the face she turned away
from him.

“No, it hasn’t,” answered the little wife shortly, without looking at
him.

“If you knew how I’ve longed to see you all this time!” said the
sparrow, with a sigh.

“Then why didn’t you come and see me?” said the bright-eyed sparrow,
with what she considered a very sarcastic laugh, but which didn’t
frighten her husband one bit. “I didn’t run away. I’ve been here all
this time, working hard to feed these three children. It’s mean of you
to treat me so!”

“So ’tis, so ’tis, my dear,” answered her husband soothingly.

“Then why in the world’s name didn’t you come?”

“Business, my dear, business,” answered the sparrow with a very
important air; “business before pleasure, you know.”

“A likely story! As if you ever did a day’s work in your life! All my
friends told me how ’twould be if I married you!”

“Then what made you do it, my love?” said the sparrow in a very sweet
voice, dropping a kiss on the back of the little head that was turned
away so persistently.

“Because I was a fool, I suppose,” answered the bright-eyed sparrow; “I
don’t know any other reason. There was that other one that wanted me to
have him,--well off and a hard-working fellow. I don’t know why in the
world I didn’t take him, instead of a vain, lazy, flirting fellow like
you!”

“I know, my dear, why you didn’t.”

“Why, I should like to know, sir?” she said, turning her bright eyes
towards him for an instant and then looking away again.

“Because, my darling, you knew that, in spite of his good qualities
that you respected you loved a good-for-nothing, lazy fellow,
good-looking enough,” said the sparrow with a conceited little air,
“but whose only virtue was that he cared more for one look from your
bright eyes than for all the rest of the world put together;” and he
lit beside her, and stretching out his neck gave her an affectionate
kiss.

“Don’t!” said his little wife with a pout; “you don’t mean it, you know
you don’t.”

“Don’t I, though?” answered her husband. “Come, my dear, it isn’t
becoming to you to be cross. Be the pretty, happy little thing you are,
and tell your mean old husband that you’re glad to see him home again.”

The bright-eyed sparrow didn’t _say_ she was glad, but she didn’t turn
from him as he sat close to her in the doorway of the little house, and
it was evident she rather liked it, or she would have moved away.

“You haven’t seen the children since they got their new feathers,” she
said. “You don’t know what a hard time I’ve had finding food for them
all this time, and they are _such_ big eaters! And the house leaks, and
sometimes it rocks so I expect every minute it will fall down. It was
very unkind of you to leave me so long!” and the bright eyes were full
of tears.

“I won’t again, my dear, ’pon my honor!” said the sparrow. “’Twas too
bad. Come, let’s make up, and I’ll show you what I’ve brought you.”

He was so good-natured, and looked so handsome and fresh in consequence
of his bath, that his poor little wife couldn’t resist him any longer,
and their little bills met in a kiss of peace.

“What do you think of that?” said the sparrow, holding out the lump of
sugar to her.

“What is it?”

“Taste and see,” he answered, holding it up to her mouth.

“Oh, how delicious!” she exclaimed, biting off a few grains.

“You see your husband does think of you when he’s away on business,”
said the sparrow tenderly.

“Let us have a bite!” called out the baby sparrows vociferously.

So the mother bird bit off a piece for each one, and then promised them
they should have the rest the next day.

“They don’t know their own father, the poor dears!” said the little
mother.

“It’s a shame,” answered the sparrow. “Hallo, young ones!” he said,
whistling for their entertainment, “when you’re able to fly, your
dad’ll take you out for an airing occasionally.”

“Where did you get that nice white stuff?” asked the little bright-eyed
sparrow.

Then the sparrow told all about Posy and Tom, and the parrot and the
canary, and the house-cat and the barn-cat, and the good luck of the
little gray kitten, and how they were trying to bring about a change of
luck for little Nancy, and how the ugly rats were plotting to prevent
it; and the little bright-eyed sparrow nestled affectionately against
him, and listened to every word that he uttered with the greatest
interest.

“How is Nancy getting on?” asked the sparrow as he ended his story.

“Poor child! I pity her with all my heart,” said the bright-eyed
sparrow. “She never gets anything to eat but she comes out and
sprinkles some of the crumbs under the tree for us, and then she throws
some around the door-step of the old shed for the mice.”

“I must have a look at her,” said the sparrow. “Where is she now? do
you know?”

“She came home about five minutes before you did,” said the little
bright-eyed sparrow; “and I’m afraid she hasn’t sold any matches
to-day, she looked so sad.”

Just then the shed-door opened, and a little girl appeared, and seating
herself under the elm-tree began to sob as if her heart would break.

“Is Posy as big as she is?” whispered the little bright-eyed sparrow,
“and does she look anything like her?”

“No, indeed,” answered her husband; “Posy is a very little girl, and
has beautiful yellow hair and red cheeks, and always dances about
because she is so happy. We _must_ do something for this poor child!”

The child sat with her face buried in her hands, sobbing; and the
sparrow noticed that her bare feet were cut in many places from walking
over the sharp stones. They were red and swollen too. He flew down and
perched on a bush in front of her, for the good-hearted fellow longed
to comfort her.

“Dear me!” said the little girl, “how my feet do ache!” and she took
one of them in her hands, and rocked herself backward and forward with
the pain.

The sparrow gave a cheerful twitter, and the child looked up.

“Why, I do believe it’s Billy come back!” she cried, almost smiling
through her tears. “Why, you’re a naughty bird to leave your wife and
babies so long!”

Billy twittered and chirped, and tried hard to tell her how glad he was
to see her.

“I’ve had a hard time, Billy, since you went away,” she said, “and it’s
a comfort to have you back again, for it always seemed to me as if you
understood what I told you, and I’ve nobody in the whole world to love
me, Billy;” and the tears streamed down her cheeks. “She’s awful cross
to me, Billy, and often beats me; and when I can’t sell my matches she
makes me go without anything to eat. A kind lady gave me a piece of
bread to-day, and I saved some of the crumbs for your little wife to
give her babies, and I’ll give some to you, too, because you’re the
only friend I have besides your wife, now that the little gray kitten
has gone;” and the little girl put a few crumbs on the ground in front
of the sparrow.

“If I were to eat one of those crumbs I believe it would choke me,” he
called up to his little wife, who was watching them as she softly sang
her babies to sleep.

“My feet are very sore, Billy,” went on the child; “for, you see, I
have to go very far to sell my matches, and I think I should feel
stronger if I had more to eat. I sometimes think that I can’t stand it
any longer;” and the poor child began to sob again.

The sparrow felt very sorry for her, and told her what her friends the
animals were going to do for her, and how happy she would be when she
found herself in a new home. “If they felt so sorry for the little
gray kitten, think how they’ll pity you, you poor ill-used child!” he
said. “And Posy and Tom will play with you, and you’ll have shoes and
stockings to wear, and plenty to eat, and a nice place to sleep in; so
don’t cry, little Nancy, for very good times are coming!”

This is what the sparrow said, but the child did not understand the
words.

“I believe you’re trying to comfort me, you dear thing,” she said,
“when you sing so cheerfully; and it makes me forget how hungry I am,
and my feet don’t hurt me so much.”

“The sun has gone down and it’s time to go to bed,” called out the
little bright-eyed sparrow after the child and the sparrow had talked
together in this manner for some time. “I always like to have the house
quiet by sundown.”

“Why, it’s only just the edge of the evening,” answered the sparrow; “I
guess I’ll call ’round on some of my old friends. I’ll be back in a few
minutes.”

“I know your tricks,” said his little wife; “you’ll come home by
daybreak, and then you’ll want to sleep till noon. ‘The early bird
catches the worm,’ my mother used to say; and true enough it is. It’s
too bad to have you go off so soon, when I was so glad to have you back
again! I’ve lots of things to tell you;” and the bright-eyed sparrow’s
eyes filled with tears of disappointment.

“Well, don’t cry, and I’ll stay at home,” said the sparrow, as he flew
up to the nest; and nestling close together they talked until their
voices grew sleepy, and then each little head was tucked under a wing,
and both were fast asleep.

Then the child arose, and limping went slowly into the house.

[Illustration: “Seating herself under the tree, began to sob as if her
heart would break.”--_Page_ 96.]




CHAPTER VIII.


WHEN the sparrow awoke the next morning he found his little mate had
been up some time and had given the young sparrows their breakfast; so
he made a hasty toilet, and then flew off to find something to eat.

He remembered just where the finest worms were to be found, and he ate
a few and saved two of the largest and fattest for his little wife.

Nancy was coming out of the gate as he flew in, and was starting out
for her day’s work with her basket of matches on her arm.

“Good-by, dear Billy,” she said, as he lighted on the rickety gate and
looked at her. “Don’t run away again, I miss you so dreadfully.”

The sparrow laid the worms carefully on the top bar of the gate, but
kept one eye on them for fear they would crawl away.

“You’ll see me back in a day or two,” he said with a cheerful nod of
the head, “and it’s a pity you don’t know that your hard days are ’most
over. Keep up courage, little Nancy, and you’ll soon be as happy as a
queen.”

“That was a very cheerful little song,” she said. “I see you’re taking
those great fat worms home to your wife. I suppose she’ll like them as
well as we do sausages, though.”

“Nancy,” called a sharp voice from the window, “what are you loitering
there for? Go along, you lazy thing!” and at the words Nancy hurried
away, and the sparrow caught up his worms and flew home as fast as his
wings could carry him.

How pleased the little bright-eyed sparrow was with the worms, and how
lovingly she watched her little mate as she ate them and divided them
with her little ones! It was so pleasant to have him back again after
those dreary days!

“I think I’ll move you all over to the place I was telling you about,”
said the sparrow. “There are plenty of fine building-spots there, and
this old shanty is in a pretty bad condition. Everything is handy
there, too, and I don’t consider this a very genteel neighborhood.”

“If we live here much longer, something will have to be done to the
house; it really isn’t safe in a high wind.”

“Well, as soon as we get this business settled about Nancy, I’ll pick
out a good situation and build,” answered the sparrow. “Now I’ll be
off, for there’s no time to lose, as I promised Mrs. Polly I’d be back
in good season.”

“Do come again as soon as you can,” said the bright-eyed sparrow,
blowing some dust off his neck; “I shall miss you dreadfully.”

“You’ll see me back just as soon as I can get hold of that piece of
silk,--perhaps to-morrow. It all depends upon Posy, you know. Good-by,
my dear;” and he kissed his little wife very affectionately. “Good-by,
young uns;” and he was off again. As he looked back he saw the little
bright-eyed sparrow standing in the doorway and looking wistfully after
him, and he threw her a kiss before he passed out of sight. “She’s a
dear little thing,” he said to himself, “and I know I’m not half good
enough for her, but I really won’t stay away so long again. It wasn’t
very comfortable at home then, I must confess; the babies were little,
and teasing for food most of the time, and she was so taken up with
them that she didn’t take much notice of me.”

With these thoughts passing through his little brain the sparrow sped
on till he came in sight of the house where Posy and Tom lived. He flew
straight to the dining-room window, and found Mrs. Polly and the canary
delighted to see him back.

“Don’t begin your story till the barn-cat and the house-cat are here,”
said Mrs. Polly; “they’ll be very anxious to hear it;” and Polly gave
a shrill whistle in imitation of the noise boys make when they whistle
through two of their fingers. It was repeated several times, until Mrs.
Winton called from her chamber window,--

“Don’t make such a frightful noise, Polly; you’ll drive me crazy.”

Soon the barn-cat appeared hurrying along, and the house-cat followed
more slowly, for she considered a graceful and dignified carriage of
the utmost importance.

“How are you, my dear creature?” said the sparrow to the barn-cat;
“I knew you’d pine away while I was gone. I’ve thought of you every
minute, too, and couldn’t stay away from you any longer.”

“Don’t make a fool of yourself,” answered the barn-cat crustily.

“Come, let’s proceed to business,” said Mrs. Polly, her quick eye
interrupting a very loving glance that the sparrow was bestowing on the
barn-cat. “What have you seen and heard about the child Nancy?”

“I’ve both seen and heard her,” answered the sparrow. “She confides all
her troubles to me, but she thinks I can’t understand a word she tells
me; and when I’ve told her how sorry I am for her and what we’re going
to do for her, she often says, ‘What a pretty little song that was,
Billy! it seems as if you wanted to comfort me.’”

“Well, how is she getting on?” asked Mrs. Polly.

“Worse than ever. She has to walk very far to sell her matches, to
places where she has never been before, and her feet are lame and
painful. We must get her away from there as soon as possible.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised if Posy would bring out her sewing soon,”
said the house-cat. “I heard Mrs. Winton tell her she didn’t like to
have her run about in the hot sun so much,--that she had better take
her playthings on the piazza where it was cool; and Posy said, ‘I guess
I’d better make a new dress for my dolly, for her’s hardly got a dress
after her name.’”

A slight rustling was heard behind the bush where the sparrow was
seated, and all quickly turned in that direction. Before the others
knew what had happened, the barn-cat was down from the window and in
the bush, and the next minute they saw her chasing a large rat across
the yard towards the barn. Quickly as he ran, they saw he was old and
gray about the mouth; and when he turned and gave a quick look back,
they saw he had long yellow teeth with one of them broken off.

“Graywhisker!” they all exclaimed in a breath. “If she can only get
him!”

Quick as the barn-cat was, old Graywhisker was quicker, and darted
into a hole under the barn that was the private entrance of the rats,
just as the barn-cat reached it. She had the satisfaction of clawing
the tip of his tail; but it was too slippery for her to hold, and it
slipped through her claws. She went back to her companions with rather
a crestfallen air.

“Splendidly done, my dear creature!” said the sparrow; “you almost got
him.”

“I’ll have him yet,” said the barn-cat as she washed her rumpled fur;
“to think of his listening again to our conversation!”

“He can’t do any harm, fortunately,” said Mrs. Polly. “All he can do is
to sneak around and play the spy.”

“I sometimes fear that he may do the little gray kitten some
mischief,” said the canary; “she is so small and helpless, and Major
says he has so much spite against her.”

“He wouldn’t _dare_ to touch her,” said the barn-cat fiercely. “I
wouldn’t sleep a wink till I’d paid him off if he harmed her.”

“Hush!” twittered the sparrow, “the children are coming.”

Posy appeared, dancing along in her usual happy way, with the corners
of her little white apron held up with one hand and in the other a
small china doll. When she reached the piazza, she let the corners of
the apron fall, and out rolled the contents,--bits of bright-colored
ribbon and silk and lace.

“Now, my dear Miss Pompadour,” said Posy to the china doll, “you sit
right down here while your mamma makes you a beautiful ball-dress. You
must be very careful of it, because it’s going to be made of my very
bestest piece of silk;” and Posy held before the dolly’s eyes a piece
of red ribbon with figures of gold thread embroidered on it.

“That’s gold, Miss Pompadour,” continued Posy,--“those bright yellow
spots. I don’t suppose you know it, for you don’t know much, and what
little you do know you don’t know _for certain_. And I shall make a
pocket in it, because you’re very apt to lose your handkerchiefs. I
showed a pocket in one of your dresses to Harry Mason the other day,
and he said, ‘Ho! that isn’t a pocket! that’s only a rag of a pocket!’
I told Tom about it, and he said Harry Mason was a very unpolite boy!”

A little twitter in front of her made Posy look up from her work, and
hopping on the gravelled walk was a little sparrow. He didn’t seem
to be at all afraid of her, and hopped about and twittered in a very
cheerful way.

Then came the barn-cat stealing softly towards the little sparrow. She
would take a few steps, and then sit down and pretend she didn’t see
him. He evidently didn’t see her, for instead of flying away he hopped
about as confidently as if there were no such thing as a cat in the
world.

The barn-cat came nearer still, and crouched in the way she always did
before she sprang, and Posy couldn’t bear it any longer.

“Go away, you naughty kitty!” cried Posy, dropping her work; and
running towards the barn-cat she caught her up in her arms.

“You mustn’t catch the dear little birdies; I’ve told you so a great
many times,” said Posy, walking towards the barn with her. “You go and
stay with your babies, and try to catch some of the ugly old rats.
Michael says they eat up Major’s oats, and he’s going to buy a trap and
catch ’em in it;” and Posy put the barn-cat inside the barn-door, and
then went back to her work.

She didn’t see a pair of small bright eyes shining in a hole around
the corner of the barn, nor see the ugly face with gray whiskers they
belonged to; nor did she hear him say with a vicious smile, “Catch ’em
in a trap, will he? I guess he’ll find out that it isn’t so easy to
catch an old rat as he thinks. Look out, my dear Posy! you may hear
from the ugly rats in a way you don’t like.”

Posy went back to her work on the piazza; but the sparrow had flown
away, and Posy hunted in vain for her little piece of red ribbon with
the gold figures embroidered on it.

“Where has that ribbon gone?” said Posy, anxiously pulling over the
little heap of bright-colored silks. “Dear me! the very beautifulest
piece I had, and I was going to make a ball-dress for Miss Pompadour
out of it. How disappointed her will be!” and Posy was almost ready to
cry with disappointment herself.

All this time the sparrow had the piece of red ribbon safe in his
little claw, and was flying away with it to the old swallow’s nest
under the eaves of the piazza where he had slept of late.

[Illustration: “Posy appeared, dancing along.”--_Page_ 110.]




CHAPTER IX.


THE little sparrow went to bed early that night, that he might be up by
daybreak the next morning and start on his expedition to Nancy before
the family were stirring.

Pleasant dreams of the happiness awaiting the forlorn child passed
through his little brain, and he took his head from under his wing as
the first faint streak of daylight appeared in the east.

This morning he omitted his usual cheerful twitter, there was no time
for that; so he jumped up and looked around for the little piece of red
ribbon with the gold figures on it. Where was it? He was certain he
had placed it carefully in the nest, for it was the last thing he saw
before he went to sleep.

“What in the world has become of that ribbon?” he said aloud. “I am
sure I put it on this side of the nest, where it couldn’t possibly blow
away;” and he pecked apart the lining of the nest and peeped everywhere
in vain.

“It couldn’t possibly have blown away, but I’ll look everywhere;” and
he carefully examined the ground under the nest and the trees and
bushes,--everywhere where it was possible for a ribbon to lodge.

By this time the sun was up and Hannah had come downstairs. As soon as
she opened the dining-room window to air the room, the sparrow flew
straight to Mrs. Polly, about as anxious-looking a bird as you would
wish to see.

“Here’s a pretty fix,” he began; “the ribbon’s gone!”

“Gone!” exclaimed Mrs. Polly, “gone where?”

“I wish I knew,” answered the sparrow shortly.

“Explain yourself, please,” said Mrs. Polly; “it’s all Greek to me.”

“Well, I went to bed last night in good season, so as to be up early
this morning and start before anybody was stirring. Well, when I woke
and was just going to start, no ribbon was to be found.”

“Careless fellow!” said Mrs. Polly, rubbing her nose with vexation;
“why couldn’t you put it where it would be safe?”

“I did. I looked at it the last thing before I went to sleep.”

“It probably blew away.”

“It couldn’t blow away; it was in the bottom of the nest, and besides
I’ve hunted everywhere and it’s not to be found.”

“Then there’s only one way to account for it,” said Mrs. Polly, with a
decided nod.

“What’s that?”

“Thieves!” answered Mrs. Polly shortly.

“Whew!” whistled the sparrow; “then I suppose it’s a hopeless case.”

“I don’t see why,” said Mrs. Polly shrewdly.

“How are we going to find them out? Nobody saw ’em come in the night.”

Mrs. Polly put her head on one side with a very knowing look, and
cleared her throat gravely.

“We’ll track them,” she said. “Whoever it was must have left some
signs behind them. I am tied down here and must trust to you to make
investigations; but if you act according to my directions, I don’t
doubt but that we’ll get to the bottom of the matter before long.”

“All right,” answered the sparrow; “just say what you want done, and
I’m your man.”

“The first thing to do,” said Mrs. Polly, “is to examine carefully the
premises. Look on the ground for footprints, and then closely examine
the pillar that leads up to the nest, to see if the thieves came that
way.”

“Why, what other way could they come, pray?”

“They could fly, couldn’t they?”

The sparrow looked rather ashamed of his slowness of comprehension and
made no reply; but then he wasn’t expected to be as shrewd as Mrs.
Polly with her many years of experience.

“The sooner you begin the better,” said Mrs. Polly; “and come back and
report to me when you are through.”

The sparrow flew off and lighted on the ground under the nest. A
flower-bed stood there, and he made a careful examination. Not a leaf
was out of place that he could see, and not a plant disturbed in any
way.

Then he pushed the branches carefully aside and examined the ground.

“Aha!” said the sparrow, with a satisfied little nod; “I begin to smell
a mice. Somebody’s been here, that’s certain; but whether these tracks
were made by a bird or a chicken or--” and he brought his bright little
eyes nearer the ground. Yes, he was pretty sure now. The soft earth
was marked by the traces of little feet, but so close together that he
couldn’t make out the exact form; but just beyond were several larger
ones, and he thought he knew to whose feet they belonged. “I guess I
know whose foot that shoe will fit,” he said to himself.

Next he looked up towards the nest. A nasturtium vine was trained
against the pillar, and pieces of twine formed a trellis for it to
cling to. The sparrow ran his eye carefully over it. “I thought so,” he
said to himself; “’twas he.”

The delicate leaves of the plant were broken in several places, and
hanging to the stem; and in one place the stem itself was torn away
from the twine as if too heavy a strain had been brought to bear on it.

The sparrow had seen enough to satisfy himself, and flew back to Mrs.
Polly.

“Well?” she asked inquiringly.

“Well,” answered the sparrow, “I guess I’ve as good as caught the
fellow.”

“Tell me what you found, and I’ll draw my own conclusions,” said Mrs.
Polly, putting her head on one side with the knowing expression she
always assumed when listening to a story.

“In the first place, the flowers were not broken, not a leaf harmed.
That shows that whoever it was, was small enough to walk under ’em.”

“Very good,” said Mrs. Polly, with an encouraging nod; “go on.”

“Then I found a lot of tracks, but they were so close together that I
couldn’t make out what kind of animal they belonged to; but a little
farther off I saw some bigger ones, and I’ll be shot if they don’t
belong to Graywhisker. Then I found the nasturtium vine broken in
several places, and it is evident the old fellow got up that way. I
sleep pretty sound when my head’s under my wing, and he might carry off
the whole nest without waking me.”

“You’ve done well,” said Mrs. Polly, with an approving smile, “very
well for an inexperienced hand. Now I’ll give you _my_ opinion;” and
she looked so wise, and was evidently so perfectly satisfied with her
own shrewdness, that the young sparrow felt greatly flattered to be
praised by so distinguished a person.

“You are right in concluding that Graywhisker was there,” said Mrs.
Polly, “but you’re wrong in thinking he climbed up the nasturtium vine.”

“You don’t think he did, then?” asked the sparrow.

“Not a bit of it,” answered Mrs. Polly decidedly.

“Who did, then?”

“Not Graywhisker, you may depend on that; he has too old a head. He
laid his plans and superintended the affair, but you wouldn’t catch
him trusting his precious old neck on that delicate vine. Besides, in
case the thief were caught he would want to keep his own neck safe.
No, indeed,” continued Mrs. Polly, shaking her head sagely; “not he,
indeed!”

“Who did go up the vine, then?” asked the sparrow, very much impressed
by Mrs. Polly’s wisdom.

“That I’m not prepared to say,” answered Mrs. Polly, with a shrug of
her shoulders; “perhaps he sent one of the young rats, but I rather
incline to the opinion that it was a mouse; even a young rat would be
too heavy, and then young rats are stupid. Yes, I’m pretty sure ’twas a
mouse.”

“What’s to be done next?” asked the sparrow.

“You young fellows are always in too much of a hurry,” said Mrs. Polly;
“we must wait and see what turns up next. ‘Murder will out,’ you know;
and if we keep our ears and eyes open, we shall get some clew to the
thief.”

“And meanwhile that poor child Nancy will have to go on with her hard
life. She said she sometimes felt as if she couldn’t bear it any
longer,” said the sparrow in a despondent tone.

“Make the best of it, my friend,” answered Mrs. Polly. “We’ll do the
best we can for her. In the mean time don’t talk about the matter; for
if Graywhisker finds out we suspect him, he’ll be on his guard and we
shan’t find a clew to the missing ribbon.”

“Well, I suppose the only thing to do is to wait patiently,” said the
sparrow, with a sigh.

Before long, the barn-cat, and the house-cat, and the little gray
kitten, and Major, all knew of the theft of the red ribbon with the
gold figures on it, and they grieved sadly over the disappointment.
They all took Mrs. Polly’s advice not to talk about it, and
Graywhisker’s name was not mentioned among them.

“How quiet the birds are to-day!” said Tom to Posy that afternoon; “I
haven’t heard the canary sing once to-day.”

“That’s so!” said Mrs. Polly dryly.

The children burst out laughing.

“Do you feel sick to-day, Mrs. Polly?” asked Posy.

Mrs. Polly gave a loud sneeze for answer.

“I guess you’ve got cold, ma’am,” said Posy.

Just then Michael drove down the yard on his way to the depot to meet
Mr. Winton; and when the carriage was opposite the dining-room window,
Major called out to Mrs. Polly,--

“I’ve got something very important to tell you. Send the barn-cat or
the sparrow to my stall when I get back. You’d better send the sparrow,
he can get so near me I don’t have to holla.”

“What a loud neigh Major did give, Tom!” said Posy. “I guess, by the
way he looked at the dining-room window, he wanted a lump of sugar.”

[Illustration: “‘What a loud neigh Major did give, Tom!’ said
Posy.”--_Page_ 126.]




CHAPTER X.


SERENE as Mrs. Polly’s temperament was, and although she gave the
sparrow such good advice, she found it very hard to keep patient
herself until the sparrow appeared.

She felt certain that the important news Major had to communicate
related to the lost ribbon, and she was almost bursting with curiosity
to know what it was. It would not do to call the sparrow, for old
Graywhisker had sharper ears than he had; so the only thing to be done
was to control her impatience until the sparrow appeared. What if he
didn’t come back until after the barn was closed for the night?

It was a horrible thought, and it made her break out into a cold
perspiration, for he was a queer fellow and his movements could never
be relied on. Just as likely as not he might take it into his head to
make another visit to his family, or go off with some friend and not
come back again before midnight.

“There he is,” whispered the canary suddenly; “I can see him swinging
on the top of that laburnum-tree. I know him by the way he bobs his
head, and twitches his tail.”

Mrs. Polly looked in the direction indicated by the canary; and
there he was, swinging on a slender branch of the laburnum-tree as
unconcernedly as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

“Flirting with that little wren,” said Mrs. Polly indignantly. “It
doesn’t look well for a family man. I _did_ hope he was going to settle
down, but I see he’s a hopeless case.”

“He’s good-hearted,” said the canary.

“Yes, his heart’s good enough,” answered Mrs. Polly; “but you can’t
rely on him. There’s no knowing what he’ll take it into his head to do
next.”

Just then the sparrow looked in the direction of the dining-room
window; and as Mrs. Polly caught his eye she beckoned to him. He
returned the signal, but went on saying a few last words; and from his
gallant manner and the coquettish air with which the wren listened to
him, it was very evident he wouldn’t have cared to have the little
bright-eyed sparrow happen by just then.

“Hopeless!” said Mrs. Polly to herself, as he came flying towards her
with a pleasant smile, evidently caused by his parting words with the
wren; “little does he care who stole the ribbon if he can only have a
good time!” and she received him rather crustily.

“Hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long,” said the sparrow
cheerfully; “didn’t see you till just now.”

“No, I observed you didn’t,” answered Mrs. Polly in a severe tone.

“Met my cousin the wren, and didn’t like to pass without speaking to
her a minute.”

“Oh, indeed!” said Mrs. Polly dryly.

“Anything up?” asked the sparrow.

“Yes,” answered Mrs. Polly; “Major wants you to go around to his stall
after he comes home from the depot,--he has something important to say,
and you can get nearer to him than the barn-cat can.”

“All right,” said the sparrow, “I’ll be on hand.”

“I hope you won’t meet any more of your _cousins_,” said Mrs. Polly
sarcastically; “because you know it might interfere with your
engagement with Major.”

“Don’t worry,” said the sparrow, “I’ll be there;” and off he flew and
perched himself on one of the topmost boughs of the great elm that hung
over the gate.

“Good-natured fellow,” said Mrs. Polly to herself, as she watched his
graceful motions, “but I don’t believe he’ll ever amount to anything.”

The sparrow sat balancing himself on the bough of the great elm until
he saw Major appear and until Michael had unharnessed him and led him
into his stall. Then he flew in through the little window above the
stall, and lighted on the edge of the manger close to Major’s face.

“We’ve chosen a good time,” whispered Major, “while Michael is getting
my supper and spreading down my bedding for the night; the rats keep
out of the way while he is around. Come a little bit nearer, if you
please, so that I can whisper in your ear.”

The little sparrow came as near as he could, and Major put his big
mouth close to his little ear as he sat perched on the edge of the
manger. How small he did look, to be sure, by the side of the great
horse; but he was a bright little fellow if he was small.

“Last night,” whispered Major, “I didn’t sleep very well. I think I
must have eaten too much supper. Some time in the night I heard voices
over my head, and I can tell you I listened with all my ears. One of
the voices I knew well enough,--it was old Graywhisker’s; and the
other was so timid and weak I was quite sure it belonged to little
Mrs. Silverskin, and I soon found I was right. They often go in and
out at night, because they know the barn-cat is likely to be asleep;
but I suspected from their whispering that some mischief was up, and I
listened.

“‘I’m afraid the vine will break,’ said Mrs. Silverskin; ‘I don’t dare
venture on it.’

“‘Nonsense!’ answered the old fellow; ‘it will hold fast enough.’

“But the little mouse protested she was afraid, and then I heard her
say, ‘I don’t like to steal Posy’s ribbon, she thinks so much of it.’

“‘Very well, ma’am,’ said old Graywhisker; ‘you just pack up and leave
these premises before to-morrow night, or you’ll be sorry.’

“‘Oh, don’t turn me out of doors!’ said the poor little creature; ‘my
babies are so young they’ll die if you do.’

“‘So much the better!’ snarled the old fellow.”

“The old villain!” said the sparrow.

“Well, the end of the matter was that Mrs. Silverskin promised to do
as he wished, provided he would not turn her out of doors; and you may
be sure the ribbon’s safe in old Graywhisker’s hole, where it’ll stay
in all probability, for I don’t know anybody bold enough to venture in
after it.”

The sparrow was silent a moment, and was about to speak when Major
interrupted him.

“Now you must go, for Michael is through, and will close up for the
night before he leaves. Tell Mrs. Polly what I’ve told you. Perhaps she
can think of some way out of this scrape; I’m sure I can’t.”

The sparrow flew off at once to acquaint Mrs. Polly with the news; but
for the first time since his acquaintance with her Mrs. Polly did not
prove equal to the emergency. She gave a deep sigh, and shook her head
several times in a very despondent manner.

“Can’t you think of some way to get back that ribbon?” asked the
sparrow. “Posy feels so badly about it that I’m sorry I didn’t take
another one instead. I was a fool. Any other bright one would have done
as well.”

“The ribbon is in Graywhisker’s hole, and there it will remain,” said
Mrs. Polly gloomily.

“It seems to me,” said the canary, who had been listening with great
interest to the story told by the sparrow, “that it might be got out.”

“Pray give us the benefit of your wisdom,” said Mrs. Polly in a
sarcastic tone. “To be sure, I’ve only lived in the world about fifty
times as long as you have, but I’m not too proud to learn from anybody.”

“Send somebody in for it when Graywhisker is away from home,” answered
the canary.

“Who, pray?” asked Mrs. Polly in the same sarcastic tone; and she
muttered something to herself that sounded very like “You fool!”

“Perhaps Mrs. Silverskin would be willing to go for it. She’s very
fond of Posy, you know, and the sparrow tells us that she objected to
stealing the ribbon on that account.”

“Absurd!” exclaimed Mrs. Polly in a contemptuous tone. “Why, she’s
afraid of her own shadow! I can assure you it would take a good deal of
courage to venture into any rat’s hole, let alone old Graywhisker’s!
Why, where do you think she’d be if he came back and found her there?”

“I suppose it would be a pretty dangerous undertaking,” said the canary
meekly.

“I _suppose_ it would too!” sneered the parrot. “No, that’s out of the
question; so that settles the matter.”

“I don’t know about that,” said the sparrow dryly.

“What do you mean?” asked Mrs. Polly sharply. “Don’t speak in riddles.”

“I mean what I say,” answered the sparrow, boldly returning Mrs.
Polly’s glance. “I said I didn’t know about that. I’m not so sure that
nobody will dare venture into Graywhisker’s hole.”

“Who will, pray?” said Mrs. Polly.

“_I_ will,” answered the sparrow firmly. “I’ll go into Graywhisker’s
hole and get that ribbon back if it’s there.”

Mrs. Polly and the canary stared at the little sparrow in astonishment
too great for words.

[Illustration: The Sparrow consults Miss Polly]




CHAPTER XI.


“DO you know what you are saying?” said Mrs. Polly, when she had
recovered from her astonishment sufficiently to speak.

“I shouldn’t wonder if I did,” answered the sparrow carelessly.

“Have you considered well the danger?” asked Mrs. Polly gravely.

“Oh, bother the danger!” exclaimed the sparrow impatiently. “Suppose
the old villain does come home and eat me up? Well, there’ll only be
one sparrow less in the world.”

“But you’re a family man. What will become of your wife and children if
you are killed?”

“My wife and children are pretty well used to taking care of
themselves, and they’ll be as well off without me as with me. There’s a
great advantage in the vagabond life I’ve led; and being of no use in
the world you won’t be missed, and that’s a comfort;” and the sparrow
laughed recklessly.

“Don’t talk so,” said Mrs. Polly; “you know you don’t mean it.”

“Perhaps I don’t,” said the sparrow carelessly.

“You’ve got on your blue spectacles to-day, I guess,” said Mrs. Polly,
“and you like to make yourself out worse than you are.”

“I’m sure _we_ should miss you very much,” said the canary. “We have
so little variety to our lives, shut up here in these cages, that it’s
very pleasant to have you coming and going, and bringing us news from
the busy world. Why, we should never have known about little Nancy if
it hadn’t been for you; and you are the one who is to bring her here,
and now you are about to venture into Graywhisker’s hole and find the
ribbon. Why, you’re the bravest fellow I know! Don’t say you’re of no
use in the world when you can do so much!”

“You’re very kind,” said the sparrow,--and his voice was somewhat
husky, and his eyes looked a little moist,--“to say such pleasant
things to a fellow. I don’t think I ever had anybody say such pleasant
things to me before. I declare I believe I’ve got a cold coming on;”
and the sparrow made a great effort to clear his throat.

“If you persist in doing this reckless thing--” began Mrs. Polly.

“I _do_ persist,” said the sparrow decidedly.

“You must take the opportunity when Graywhisker is away from home,”
continued Mrs. Polly. “I don’t know much about his habits myself, but
Major can tell you when he is likely to be out. Then let the barn-cat
watch at the entrance of the hole, and you’re safe from him provided
you don’t come to harm in the hole.”

Mrs. Polly put her head on one side with a meditative air, and the
others were silent, for they knew she was considering deeply about the
matter. After a few minutes’ silence she spoke.

“I’ll tell you what seems to me to be a good plan,” she said to the
sparrow. “You see the barn-cat and whisper to her to take her kittens
out for an airing in front of the barn. Graywhisker will be sure to see
them, and conclude that it’s safe for him to leave home, for he never
goes out while she is in the barn. You watch from a distance, and when
he is gone you give the barn-cat a sign and let her leave her kittens
with the little gray kitten while you slip into the hole and she sits
at the entrance. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand that it wouldn’t make much difference to the
barn-cat whether she ate _me_ or Graywhisker; on the whole, I’m
inclined to think she’d give me the preference. No, I thank you, I’d
rather meet Graywhisker in the hole than have the barn-cat watch the
entrance while I’m in.”

“Well, I don’t know but that you’re right,” answered Mrs. Polly; “then
we’ll leave it this way. You wait for an opportunity when Graywhisker
is away and the barn-cat too, and then you slip in and get the ribbon.
Major will point out his hole to you.”

“All right,” answered the sparrow cheerfully. “I’ll take advantage of
the first opportunity;” and he flew off to the top of a tall pear-tree
that commanded a view of the barn and yard. The parrot saw him sit
quietly there for some time, his little head bobbing about in a very
wide-awake manner, and then suddenly fly down and dart into the window
above Major’s stall. She knew the desired opportunity had come, and
both she and the canary felt great anxiety as to the result of such a
bold undertaking.

Just then Tom and Posy came out and seated themselves on the steps of
the piazza to eat their lunch.

“Can’t you tell me a story, Tom?” asked Posy; “I’ve told you ever so
many nice ones.”

“Well,” said Tom, “let me see--”

“I’d rather hear about animals,” said Posy.

“Well then, I guess I’ll tell you about a hedgehog.”

“Oh dear!” said Posy, with a disappointed air; “well, go on, Tom.”

“Once there was a hedgehog,” began Tom, “who lived in a little hole in
the woods.”

“What?” asked Posy quickly.

“You mustn’t interrupt me, Posy,” said Tom. “I said there was once a
hedgehog who lived in a little hole in the woods.”

“But it _couldn’t_, you know,” said Posy, with a perplexed expression.

“He could and he did,” continued Tom decidedly; “and one day he started
out for a walk--”

“Why, Tom,” said Posy earnestly, “how could a hedgehog take a walk? A
hedgehog is a kind of _barrel_, you know.”

“You mean hogshead,” said Tom; “what a little goosie you are, Posy!
But no matter,” he continued, as Posy’s cheeks flushed at her mistake;
“the hedgehog started out for a walk one morning, and before he’d gone
very far he met an old fox who lived in a ledge of rocks near by.
‘Good-morning, sir,’ said Mr. Fox, ‘this is a fine morning to be out’--”

“Tom,” said Posy suddenly, “I do believe the barn-cat is going to
bring her kittens out. Do look at her!”

The barn-cat sat in the doorway of the barn, and moved her tail gently
backward and forward, occasionally uttering a low “meaw” in a very
coaxing tone and looking behind her. Soon a little head appeared, and
then another, and two tiger-kittens began to play with her tail. Then
the barn-cat stepped down from the doorway into the yard, and went
through the same performance again. The tiger-kittens came to the edge
of the step and looked cautiously over. The barn-cat pretended not to
see them, but kept her tail gently moving.

Then the tiger-kittens put first one paw over the edge of the step,
and then another, and all at once they tumbled over into the yard.
Then what a play they did have! They lay on their sides and kicked
against their mother, and then they made believe frightened and
galloped sideways up to her, with their backs arched and as fierce an
expression as their mild little eyes were capable of producing.

“See the old cat make believe she doesn’t see ’em, and yet she watches
them out of the corner of her eye all the time,” said Tom.

Then the barn-cat began to wash herself, and the kittens did the same;
but they didn’t do it in a very thorough manner, for their little paws
didn’t touch their faces half of the time.

Then the barn-cat took up one of her hind legs and washed it, and the
kittens tried to do the same; but they were such little round balls
they kept losing their balance, and tumbled over every time they lifted
up their short hind legs.

Soon the barn-cat went into the barn, leaving her kittens at play in
the yard.

“That’s strange,” said Tom, “to leave her kittens; she’s usually so
careful of them.”

In a few minutes the gray kitten came out and seated herself near the
tiger-kittens.

“I really believe,” said Posy, “that the barn-cat sent the gray kitten
out to take care of her babies while she was out hunting.”

When the barn-cat entered the barn, she called the gray kitten to her
and told her she would like to have her take charge of the kittens
while she watched for a while at Graywhisker’s hole, as she hadn’t seen
him leave the barn for a long time.

The gray kitten, delighted to be of service to her kind friend,
hurried down to the yard, and the barn-cat took her station beside
Graywhisker’s hole. Meanwhile the sparrow had learned from Major where
Graywhisker’s hole was situated, and was already some distance in, when
the barn-cat took her position outside.

“Dark as a pocket,” said the sparrow to himself as he cautiously groped
his way.

“Perhaps I shall see better when I’m used to the darkness,” he said
hopefully; and he went on slowly, putting one foot carefully before the
other. Suddenly he lost his footing and fell down several inches, but
he landed on his feet and was not hurt.

“All right,” said the sparrow, and looked about him. A little ray of
light shone in through a crevice of the wall, and he was able to see
faintly. This was evidently Graywhisker’s dwelling; and the long dark
place he went through first, the passage-way leading to it. As his eyes
became accustomed to the dim light he began to distinguish objects.

“Whew! how close!” said the sparrow, as he took a long breath.

All the old rat’s treasures were evidently collected here. Crusts of
bread, rinds of cheese, scraps of bacon, were lying around; and bits
of rags and twine were collected in a corner, and evidently served as
Graywhisker’s bed.

“You’ll have to make your bed over to-night, my friend,” said the
sparrow, rumpling the bed over and scattering the rags all over the
floor. “Hallo! what’s this?” he said, as he came upon a smooth round
object.

“I declare, if it isn’t a hen’s egg! The old thief! I wonder how he
managed to get it in here without breaking it! I guess I’ll save him
the trouble of breaking it;” and he pecked at it until he had made
a hole large enough for the inside of the egg to run out. He gave a
mischievous laugh as he saw the liquid oozing out, and then continued
his search.

“Whew!” he said again; “it’s getting rather stifling here, I must hurry
up. Where in the world can that ribbon be?” and he looked carefully
around in every direction. “Hooray!” he exclaimed, as he caught sight
of a little piece of red silk hanging from a nail over his head.
“Thought he’d got it hid away safely, didn’t he?” and in a twinkling he
had hopped up and caught the ribbon securely in his beak.

“Now for a little fresh air,” said the sparrow; “I couldn’t stand it
much longer.”

He looked around for the entrance to the passage-way. There were three
holes just alike; which was the right one? He stood perplexed. “What a
fool I was,” he said to himself, “not to take more notice! This is a
pretty fix! Well, here goes! I’ll try each one, and one of them _must_
lead out.” So he hopped up to the hole nearest him and boldly entered.
It was utterly dark, and he felt his way for a time in silence; but the
sparrow, who lived out in the pure air, was not accustomed to the close
and musty atmosphere of an old rat-hole, and he began to feel faint and
a little bewildered. What if he shouldn’t be able to find his way at
all? But he was a brave little fellow, and he thrust the thought aside.
“I _will_ get out, I _won’t_ give up,” he said resolutely. “This hole
_must_ lead somewhere;” and he pushed bravely on.

“Seems to me I’ve gone far enough to take me out; I don’t understand
it. My strength won’t hold out to go back and try another entrance.”
He thought of the bright-eyed sparrow and his three little ones, and
he determined to hold out, for they had never seemed so dear to him as
they did now that the hope of seeing them again appeared so small. With
a great effort he kept on, holding the bit of ribbon in his beak. Soon
he turned a sharp corner, and with joy he beheld a ray of light in the
distance. The long dark passage led into the main passage-way, and he
was safe.

Just as he was about to emerge into the daylight a faint rustle met
his quick ears, and with horror he beheld the barn-cat seated at the
entrance.

There was nothing to be done but to wait patiently and see what would
happen next. The air that came in through the entrance of the hole
relieved the dreadful faintness that had so oppressed him; so he sat
holding the ribbon securely in his beak, but with his brave little
heart beating pretty rapidly.

All at once a sudden noise startled him, and peeping cautiously out he
saw the barn-cat chasing Graywhisker across the barn-floor. Quick as a
flash the sparrow was out and had flown in safety to the window-sill,
when Graywhisker disappeared into a hole in the wall, and the barn-cat
returned with a crestfallen air to her kittens.

[Illustration: Tramp on a Branch]




CHAPTER XII.


THE sparrow flew at once to acquaint Mrs. Polly and the canary with
the result of his expedition. They were both greatly relieved to see
him safely back, and rejoiced at his success. Then after a short rest
and a worm or two for lunch, he flew merrily off to find little Nancy,
carrying the piece of red ribbon safely in his claw.

It was some time before he succeeded in finding her, with her box of
matches on her arm, going about from house to house.

He lighted on a fence beside her, and flaunted the red ribbon with the
gold figures on it in a very enticing manner.

“Why, Billy,” exclaimed the child, “how did you get here? What a
beautiful ribbon! I wish you would give it to me! It would make a
lovely dress for that little china doll that hasn’t got any legs and
arms, that a little girl gave me one day.”

Billy waited until the child was almost up to him, and then flew away,
holding the red ribbon securely in his claw.

“I know you want to put it in your nest, Billy,” continued the child;
“but any rag would do just as well for you, and I never saw such a
_beautiful_ piece of ribbon in all my life.”

But Billy flew on and lighted again on a stone in front of little Nancy.

The child tore off a piece of her dress, that was in such an untidy
condition that the little piece of calico would not be missed, and
approached the sparrow cautiously, saying,--

“I will give you this piece off my dress, Billy, to put in your nest,
if you will give me that beautiful ribbon. This will do better for
you, because it’s bigger. Now, _do_ give it to me, and I’ll give you
and your little mate ever so many crumbs from the next piece of bread I
get.”

The sparrow again waited till the child had almost reached him, and
then flew away as before.

“Oh, dear me!” she exclaimed sadly; “I did want it so much!” and she
turned to go back with a weary air.

Then the sparrow came towards her and dropped the ribbon on the ground.
The child ran to pick it up; but just as she stooped to seize it, the
sparrow caught it up in his beak and flew off with it.

“I shall follow him,” said the child to herself, “till I get that
ribbon. I know he’ll drop it again, for he’s a very careless fellow.”

So the two went on, the sparrow occasionally dropping the ribbon and
then seizing it again as the child was about to put her hand on it.

Meanwhile Posy and Tom were out in the yard, or rather seated on the
step of the kitchen door, watching the barn-kittens playing. The gray
kitten played too, but more gently than the tiger-kittens.

“I’m going to bring out the house-kittens,” said Posy; “they ought to
have a good time too.”

The house-cat was lying in the box beside her kittens when Posy came
for them.

“I’m going to let your kitties play with the barn-kitties,” said Posy
in explanation to the house-cat, who looked rather startled at such a
sudden interruption; “they ought to be out in the fresh air instead of
sleeping in this hot kitchen. You needn’t meaw so, for I shan’t hurt
them.”

What the house-cat said was this,--

“I don’t want my kittens playing with those rough barn-kittens; it will
spoil their manners.” But Posy didn’t understand her; and it wouldn’t
have made any difference if she had, for she was very fond of the
barn-cat and approved highly of the way she brought up her family. So
Posy carried out the kittens, followed closely by the house-cat.

Posy put the kittens on the ground beside the little tiger-kittens, and
then went back to her seat on the door-step beside Tom to watch them
play.

The little tiger-kittens stood still a minute and watched the
new-comers curiously. Then they flew at each other, and clawed
each other, and rolled over together. The barn-cat looked on, very
proud of her children’s strength; but the house-cat had a very
scornful expression on her countenance, as she scowled at the little
tiger-kittens.

“Come back at once!” she called to her little Maltese kittens. “I don’t
wish you to associate with those common barn-kittens.”

“Oh, do let us stay; it’s _such_ fun!” they answered piteously.

“Let ’em have a little frolic; it’ll do ’em good,” said the barn-cat.
“They’ll get sick lying in that hot kitchen.”

“I’m very particular about their manners,” said the house-cat; “I don’t
want them to learn common ways.”

“My kittens won’t teach ’em anything to hurt their manners,” answered
the barn-cat; “let ’em stay and have a good time. Come, my dears,” she
said to the little Maltese kittens in a motherly tone, “you play just
as much as you want to.”

The house-cat looked anxiously around. None of her stylish
acquaintances were in sight, and it _did_ seem a pity to cheat her
darlings out of a romp in this fresh air; so she didn’t say they
_shouldn’t_ stay, and the kittens interpreted her silence as a consent.
So they grew very cheerful, and watched the tiger-kittens chase each
other and claw and roll over, till at last they became bold, and one
of them went up to one of the tiger-kittens and gave him a gentle tap
with his paw, exactly as Posy often did to Tom when she called out
“Tag!”

Then the tiger-kitten turned and chased him, and how the little Maltese
kitten did run! He dodged almost as well as the tiger-kittens did,
and the tiger-kitten had to try with all his might till he caught the
Maltese kitten, and then they both rolled over together and kicked and
clawed, just as if the Maltese kitten had played “tag” every day of his
life.

“Very well indeed, my dear!” said the barn-cat, with an approving nod;
“try it once more, and you needn’t be afraid to put out your claws a
little farther. My kittens don’t mind a few scratches, I can tell you;
and look here, my dear, when you run up to them, crouch a little, this
way, and wriggle your body before you spring, and don’t be afraid of
hurting them when you knock them over. Try it again, my dear; you’ll do
it better next time.”

The little Maltese kitten did try it again, and succeeded so well that
the house-cat, although she tried not to look interested, couldn’t
resist a smile of pride. Then the other Maltese kitten tried it, and
did it so well that the barn-cat praised her for it.

“Now, my dears,” said the barn-cat, “I’m going to teach you how to
catch mice.”

She looked around and picked out a little green apple that would roll
easily.

“Now play that was a mouse sitting still; show me how you would catch
it. You begin first,” she said to one of her kittens, “because you’ve
already had a lesson in it.”

So the tiger-kitten crept cautiously towards the apple, swishing her
little tail the way her mother had taught her; and when she came
within the proper distance she stopped and wriggled her body from side
to side, and then gave a great spring and seized the apple with her
little front paws; but the tiger-kitten was so excited from playing
“tag,” that she forgot she was playing “mouse,” and batted the apple
with her little paws and set it rolling, and then chased it and caught
it, and lay on her back and clawed it with all her four paws.

“I’m ashamed of you,” said the barn-cat severely; “now put it down and
do it over again properly; and mind, no fooling this time!”

So the little tiger-kitten did it over again, and really did it very
well; and then the Maltese kittens tried it, and the barn-cat was very
much pleased with them. “Now,” said the barn-cat, “we’ll make believe
’tis a mouse running. See how well you can do that!” and she gave the
apple a push with her paw, and all the four kittens set off at once
after it, and rolled over one another and clawed and kicked just as
they had done when they played “tag.”

The barn-cat couldn’t help smiling to herself, but she took care that
the kittens didn’t see her smile, and then she made each one do it
alone, and gave them very good advice about hiding behind corners and
then suddenly springing out.

The children had been watching this play with the greatest interest,
and often laughed aloud, when all at once Posy exclaimed,--

“Why, there is a little girl without any shoes and stockings on, and
her’s got a basket on her arm. What do you suppose her wants, Tom?”

The little barefooted girl was Nancy, whom the sparrow had succeeded in
enticing by means of the red ribbon with gold figures on it. She had
stood watching the kittens play for some minutes before Posy saw her.

“She’s got something to sell, I guess,” said Tom.

Just then Hannah came to the door, and the children told her about the
little girl.

“Go away!” said Hannah; “we don’t want to buy anything.”

The child came a step nearer and said timidly,--

“Will you please to buy some matches, ma’am?”

“No,” said Hannah shortly; “we don’t want any pedlers ’round here.”

The child sighed and turned away.

“Hannah,” said Posy, with her cheeks very red, “that’s a poor little
girl, and Mamma always buys things of poor little girls.”

“Your mamma’s got plenty of matches,” said Hannah in the same cross
tone. “She wants a chance to steal something; that’s what she wants.”

“You’re a very unkind girl, Hannah,” said Posy angrily. “I know Mamma
will buy some matches; won’t her, Tom?”

“Yes,” said Tom decidedly. “She tells us to be good to poor people; and
this little girl hasn’t got any shoes and stockings, and her feet look
awful sore.”

“Mamma!” screamed Posy, running under the window of Mamma’s room.

“What is it, dear?” asked Mamma, coming to the window.

“There’s a awful poor little girl here, Mamma,” said Posy eagerly; “and
her hasn’t got any shoes and stockings, and her has matches to sell.
_Do_ buy some, Mamma; her looks so tired, and sad;” and Posy was very
near crying.

“Tell her to wait a minute,” said Mamma, “and I’ll come down.”

So Posy and Tom ran after the little girl and brought her back just as
Mamma appeared at the kitchen door.

“Come in, little girl,” said Mamma kindly, “and sit down. You look
tired.”

The child did indeed look tired, and seated herself wearily; but the
instant she touched the chair her head fell forward on her breast, and
she would have fallen to the floor if Hannah had not caught her in time.

“Bring her into the dining-room where it is cool,” said Mrs. Winton,
“and lay her on the sofa.”

So Hannah, whose heart was a good deal kinder than her tongue, picked
up the forlorn child and gently placed her on the sofa in the cool
dining-room.

[Illustration: “So Posy and Tom ran after the little girl and brought
her back.”--_Page_ 164.]




CHAPTER XIII.


TOM and Posy watched little Nancy with distressed countenances as she
lay on the lounge so still and white.

“Don’t be frightened,” said Mrs. Winton, as she caught sight of their
faces, that were almost as pale as the little match-girl’s; “she has
only fainted and will be well again in a few minutes.”

So Mrs. Winton bathed the child’s forehead with cold water, and Hannah
fanned her with a palm-leaf fan.

“Tom,” said Mamma, “I wish you would bring me a pitcher of cold water
fresh from the pump.” But there was no answer, and Mamma looked around.
Both of the children were gone. Just as the little match-girl opened
her eyes Tom appeared carrying a pillow, and Posy brought up the rear
with a bottle of cologne in one hand and all the playthings she could
carry under the other arm.

“I thought the little girl would like to have my pillow under her
head,” said Tom, handing it to Mamma.

“It was very thoughtful,” answered Mamma.

“And Posy brought the bottle of German cologne she got on her
birthday,” added Tom, as Posy stood shyly behind him; “she’s been
keeping it for you when you have a headache, but she says she wants the
little girl to have it because she didn’t believe she ever had any nice
German cologne before.”

Posy felt paid for the little sacrifice she had made when Mamma smiled
at her. Meanwhile Nancy was sitting up, looking around her with a
bewildered air.

“She probably ate something that hurt her,” said Hannah; “there’s no
telling what these kind of people eat. A good dose of thoroughwort
would fetch her out of this.”

“What did you have for your breakfast, my dear?” asked Mrs. Winton
kindly.

“I didn’t have any breakfast,” answered the child.

“What did you eat for your supper last night?” asked Mrs. Winton.

“I didn’t have any supper, either,” said the little match-girl.

“How happened it, my child?” asked Mrs. Winton, with a serious face.

“I couldn’t sell any matches, so she didn’t give me anything to eat.
She said I didn’t earn my salt.”

“Who is _she_?”

“The woman where I live,” answered the child.

“Is she your relative?” asked Mrs. Winton.

“I don’t know,” answered the child.

“Hannah,” said Mrs. Winton, “bring me a bowl of bread and milk. It is
as I suspected; the child is half starved.”

Posy came around to Mamma’s side, and leaned against her in what Hannah
called “Posy’s coaxing way.”

“Don’t send her back to that horrid woman, will you, Mamma?” she
whispered.

“I will look after her, my darling, you may be sure,” said Mamma.

“But you _will_ let her stay, won’t you, Mamma?” repeated Posy.

“I will let her stay till she feels well again, and then I will find
out about her,” answered Mamma soothingly. “Don’t be troubled, Posy;
I love my own little children too well not to try to make all other
children happy.”

Posy looked greatly relieved.

Tom had been silently watching the little match-girl, and listening
eagerly to what Mamma said to Posy. He put his hand in his pocket and
pulled out his new top and looked lovingly at it.

“She can have my new top if she wants it,” he said to Mamma.

“I am glad you thought of it, my dear, but I don’t think little girls
care much for tops,” said Mamma.

An expression of relief came over Tom’s face; for the new top was very
dear to him, and he had saved the money for it, cent by cent.

“Do you think she would like to have Miss Pompadour?” asked Posy.

“We will see that she has playthings,” said Mamma; “but first of all
she needs food, and here comes Hannah with the bread and milk.”

The poor child ate greedily, the children looking on with intense
satisfaction.

That afternoon Major was harnessed to the carryall; and Mr. Winton,
with Tom and Posy, and little Nancy for a guide, set out for Nancy’s
old home. A ride was an unknown and undreamed-of treat to the neglected
child, and the kindness with which she was received almost overpowered
her.

Although Nancy had lived such a joyless life, her powers of observation
were unusually acute; and the stories she related to Posy, who sat
beside her on the back seat, were so very novel and interesting that
Tom forgot to ask to drive, and listened as intently as Posy did.
She told them about Billy, and the bright-eyed sparrow, and the baby
sparrows, and the little blind gray kitten; and in this way the time
passed so very quickly that they reached their destination before the
children had heard half enough.

Mr. Winton went into the house and left the children in the carriage.

Nancy pointed out the little house where the bright-eyed sparrow
lived; and there she was at the door of the house.

“She’s going to teach the young birds how to fly,” said Nancy; and the
children watched with great interest.

First the mother bird hopped down to the branch below, and the little
sparrows came to the door of the house and looked down. Their mother
gave a little call, but they only stretched their necks farther out
and looked timidly down, as if the distance seemed to them very great.
The mother bird called again, louder and more decidedly. Then they
fluttered their little wings and hopped up and down, but dared not
venture out of their nest. The mother bird, evidently thinking that a
little discipline was required, hopped back and gave each one a little
peck, and actually drove them out of the nest. Then she showed them how
to fly. She flew around in short circles, and then back again. Soon one
of the little sparrows grew bold, and flew a very little way and then
came back; but he seemed very proud of what he had done and tried it
over again many times. Then, encouraged by his example, the other two
ventured out; and they too grew quite brave, and flew better every time
they tried.

By this time the door of the house opened, and Mr. Winton appeared,
followed by a woman, at sight of whom little Nancy shrank back in the
carriage and looked frightened.

“Don’t be afraid,” said Tom; “if she comes here I’ll give her a good
hit and send her off howling.”

“No, indeed,” said Posy; “we shan’t let her touch you.”

“If you take the child you take her for good and all. I ain’t a going
to take her back when you’ve got sick of your bargain,” they heard the
woman say, as she held the door open with one hand.

“I take her for good and all,” answered Mr. Winton, as he turned from
the door and came towards the carriage.

“Nancy,” he said, when they had driven a few minutes in silence, “how
should you like to stay with us?”

“Oh!” cried Posy, clapping her hands and jumping up and down with joy,
“I thought it would end so, you dear, good, kind Papa!” and Posy threw
her arms around Papa’s neck, and hugged him till she knocked off his
hat and nearly fell out of the carriage herself.

“I should like it very much indeed,” said Nancy, with a gleam of
happiness in her dark eyes.

So little Nancy went to her new home, and a cot-bed was put in Hannah’s
room for her.

“Hannah’s awful cross,” said Tom to Nancy.

“But her’s good, Tom,” said Posy.

“‘Her bark’s worse than her bite,’ Papa says.”

Meanwhile old Graywhisker was almost beside himself with rage at
the overthrow of his hopes. When he escaped from the barn-cat, he
disappeared down the private entrance to the barn and remained there
quietly until he was sure the barn-cat was out of the way. Then he
crept cautiously out and ran to his own hole.

When he emerged from the long, dark passage-way into his living-room,
imagine the confusion that met his eyes! His bed torn to pieces
and scattered all around, and his precious hen’s egg that he had
transported with so much care and difficulty, broken! He gave a quick
glance up at the nail where he had hung the red ribbon with the gold
figures on it. It was empty.

“Gone!” he shrieked. “Stolen! but I’ll be revenged! This will be the
dearest piece of mischief you ever did, my dear barn-cat! I’d give a
good deal to know who was the cat’s paw this time;” and his shrewd old
eyes peered keenly about for some traces left by the thief. “Aha!” he
said, with an ugly grin that showed the broken tooth in front; and he
sat on his haunches and held up a little gray feather. “It was you, was
it, my dear little cock-sparrow? The barn-cat sent you in, did she, to
get the chestnuts out of the fire for her? I wonder, my dear friends,
if before very long you’ll wish you had left the little ribbon alone!
The old rat will be one too many for you, my dear creatures, I am
afraid!”

In this way Graywhisker gave vent to his rage and disappointment, and
sat a long time considering how to take his revenge. Then he decided
to hold a midnight meeting in his house, where there was no danger of
being disturbed; and the meeting was very fully attended, and the
result kept strictly private.

The next afternoon the little gray kitten was seated in front of the
barn washing herself, when her attention was attracted by a little
mouse that ran in front of her. The gray kitten could not see very
well, and she seldom succeeded in catching anything; but this little
mouse ran so very near that she couldn’t help seeing it, and she
quickly ran after it.

The mouse ran into the barn and up the stairs, followed very closely by
the gray kitten, and then disappeared into a large hole under the mow.
The gray kitten was not very large herself, and the hole was so big
that she followed the little mouse in. There was a much smaller hole
at the other end; and out of that the mouse ran, but it was too small
for the gray kitten to follow and she turned to go back. What was her
surprise and terror to find the entrance closed up with a pile of hay,
and that she was a prisoner!

“I understand now,” said the poor little gray kitten to herself, “why
that mouse ran so near me. It was done to get me into this trap, and
that Graywhisker was at the bottom of it.”

[Illustration: “The poor child ate greedily.”--_Page_ 170.]




CHAPTER XIV.


GREAT was the excitement among the animals when they learned that the
little gray kitten was missing.

“She never in this world went off of her own accord,” said the barn-cat
to Mrs. Polly; “she always stayed at home and took care of my kittens
while I was out hunting. Something has happened to her. We shall never
see the dear little thing again, you may be sure;” and the barn-cat
gave a deep sigh.

“Don’t be so discouraged,” said the canary hopefully; “all of our plans
have gone well so far, and I know this will. It’s always darkest before
daylight, you know.”

“What do you propose to do about it, pray?” asked the barn-cat in an
irritable tone. “It’s all very well to say ‘Don’t be discouraged,’ but
what is to be done? Sitting here and talking about it won’t bring the
gray kitten back. Come, let’s have your ideas on the subject. I’m not
too old to learn, if I _have_ brought up half a dozen families.”

“I don’t pretend to know myself the best course to pursue,” answered
the canary good-naturedly, “and I shouldn’t presume to dictate to you
who have had so much more experience than I have. I only meant to say
that Mrs. Polly, who has the wisest head of any of us, could probably
advise us what to do.”

Mrs. Polly gave a satisfied “Ahem!” for it always put her in a good
humor to be looked up to.

“That’s a good idea,” said the barn-cat, appeased by the canary’s
good-nature. “Come, Mrs. Polly, I hope you will give us your views on
the subject; I know you have been thinking it over.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Polly in an impressive manner, “I have been
considering the case, and have come to the conclusion that the only way
to accomplish anything is to investigate the case in a thorough manner.
Call the animals together, and I will interview them, and discover, if
possible, if they can throw any light on this painful affair.”

“Capital!” exclaimed the barn-cat, “I will attend to it at once. If
you’ve no objection, ma’am, I should like to bring my kittens; they are
old enough to begin to learn how such matters are conducted, and I like
to have them get all the information they can.”

“Very sensible indeed,” answered Mrs. Polly; “bring them by all means,
and tell the house-cat to bring hers. Please notify the sparrow also of
the meeting; and as Major can’t be present you will have to take his
affidavit. That is,” explained Mrs. Polly, seeing a puzzled look on the
barn-cat’s face, “he must tell you what he knows about the matter, and
you can report it to me.”

“That’s very easy,” answered the barn-cat. “Finding the sparrow won’t
be quite so easy. He’s never around when he’s wanted.”

“Yes, he is, my darling,” answered a voice from the flowering currant;
“he can’t tear himself away from you long;” and there sat the sparrow,
swinging on a slender branch, and looking as impudent and careless as
ever.

“Well, you _are_ here when you’re wanted for once in your life,” said
the barn-cat. “See if you can keep still in one place till we’re ready
for the meeting;” and off went the barn-cat on her errand.

In a short time the house-cat appeared with her kittens nicely
washed, and looking as pretty and fresh as possible, and soon after
the barn-cat appeared with _her_ kittens. She had had time to wash
them carefully, as Major was out and she could not have the desired
interview with him. Their little tiger-skins were glossy, and they
looked as if it were hard work for them to walk sedately behind their
mother.

The house-cat was seated with her kittens beside her, and the barn-cat
took up her position at a distance and placed her kittens where she
could keep an eye on them. While she was making their toilets she had
given them so many instructions in regard to their behavior, that they
presented a very demure appearance, although their little bright eyes
danced about in such a very animated way that it seemed probable that
it wouldn’t be a very difficult task to make them forget their dignity.

Mrs. Polly looked as wise as half a dozen judges put together, wigs
and all. She looked silently around on the little group collected about
her and then gave a little cough, as was usual when she had something
of importance to say.

“I suppose you all understand why this meeting was called,” she began.
“The little gray kitten, of whom we are all so fond, is missing, and
we are trying to discover some traces of her. Now, to proceed in a
systematic manner, the first point to find out is, who saw her last,
and where?”

There was a moment’s silence, and then one of the little house-kittens
said,--

“I think old Graywhisker has eaten the gray kitten up.”

“What makes you think so?” asked Mrs. Polly quickly.

“Because he’s got such long, sharp teeth. My mother says he’d eat me up
quicker than a wink if he caught me,” answered the house-kitten.

“When did you see the gray kitten last, my dear?” asked Mrs. Polly.

“Not for a very long time,” replied the little house-kitten. “My mother
says she’s common, and doesn’t like to have us play with her.”

“Then, if you’ve no information to give on the subject,” said Mrs.
Polly severely, “don’t give it. You must learn to be seen and not
heard.”

The little house-kitten was somewhat abashed at this reproof; but
her embarrassment did not last long, for her sister, the other
house-kitten, who was tired of sitting still so long, moved her tail
backward and forward in such a very enticing manner that she couldn’t
resist the temptation of springing at it and clawing it.

The house-cat was rather ashamed of her want of discipline,
particularly as the barn-kittens sat all this time in a dignified
manner, with their small tails straight out behind them; and more
especially as the barn-cat’s face wore a very self-satisfied smile, as
if she were enjoying the house-cat’s discomfiture.

“If you don’t sit still I shall take you home at once,” she said to the
house-kittens when she had restored order and placed them where she
could reach them in case of a second disturbance.

“Now that order is restored,” said Mrs. Polly, “we will proceed to
business. When did _you_ see the gray kitten last?” she asked the
sparrow.

“I haven’t seen her for the last two days,” answered the sparrow. “She
isn’t so attached to me as my friend the barn-cat here, and doesn’t
follow me up so closely.”

“Don’t joke at such a serious moment,” said the barn-cat crossly.

“It’s as easy to laugh as to cry,” answered the sparrow, “and a good
deal pleasanter.”

“Our friend the sparrow did us such a good turn in recovering the
stolen ribbon,” said Mrs. Polly, “that we mustn’t be too hard on his
peculiarities. We all know that if his manner is sometimes frivolous,
he has proved to us that he has a warm heart and is devoted to our
service.”

“His heart’s warm enough and he is brave enough too,” said the
barn-cat, who had a strong sense of justice; “but I _do_ wish he was a
little steadier in his ways.”

“We must take people as we find them,” answered Mrs. Polly. “Now, Mrs.
Barn-cat, when did _you_ see the gray kitten last?”

“I left her yesterday afternoon to watch my kittens while I was out,
and when I came back she was gone. That’s all I know about it.”

The little tiger-kittens had listened to every word that had been said,
and had a very important air, as if they could tell something if they
were asked. Mrs. Polly’s keen eyes noticed this, and she said to one of
them,--

“Now, my dear, I want you to tell me just what happened while your
mother was away yesterday afternoon. Don’t be afraid to speak out.”

The kitten evidently was _not_ afraid to speak out, and began in a
clear voice,--

“We had a fine play, and the gray kitten couldn’t catch us because we
dodged so. We caught her every time.”

“What’s that to do with the subject, I should like to know?” asked the
house-cat severely, for she remembered how her kitten had been snubbed;
“and anybody could see with half an eye that my kitten is much smarter
than that stupid-looking thing,” she added to herself.

“Please don’t confuse the witness,” said Mrs. Polly to the house-cat.
“Very well, my dear,” she continued, turning to the little
tiger-kitten; “what happened next?”

“We played till we got tired, and that’s all,” answered the little
tiger-kitten.

“I thought so,” exclaimed the house-cat triumphantly.

Mrs. Polly scowled fiercely at her, and then turned to the little
tiger-kitten again.

“Well, my dear, and what happened after you became tired of playing?”

“Well,” replied the little kitten, as she kept her eye on one of the
house-kittens who was rolling a pebble with her soft paw, “then a
little mouse ran by.”

“Oh!” said Mrs. Polly; “and what then, my dear? What did you do when
the little mouse ran by?”

“We wanted to catch it, but the gray kitten wouldn’t let us. She said
our mother told her not to let us go away.”

“And what did the gray kitten do then?” asked Mrs. Polly quickly.

“She ran after the little mouse and she didn’t come back again, and
that’s all,” said the little tiger-kitten.

“Very good indeed, my dear,” answered Mrs. Polly, with an approving nod
of her head. “You’ve told a very connected story, and we’ve found out
that the gray kitten chased a mouse and has not been seen since.”

The barn-cat was intensely gratified at her kitten’s sagacity, but the
only expression she gave to her satisfaction was to wash the little
tiger-kitten’s face affectionately. Then she said, after a few moments’
silence,--

“Before we break up, I should like to mention that the collar that
Posy gave me has disappeared. It was quite loose for me, and I _may_
have lost it when I was off hunting. I don’t like to accuse anybody
wrongly, but it was a very handsome affair, and I dare say created a
good deal of jealousy among my acquaintances;” and she looked very hard
at the house-cat.

“If you mean _me_,” said the house-cat, with a toss of her head, “let
me tell you that _I_ haven’t stolen your old collar. _I_ don’t need
collars to make me look respectable, thank goodness!”

“Very true,” answered the barn-cat; “it would take more than _collars_
to make some people look respectable.”

“Oh, come, come,” said Mrs. Polly, “don’t get personal! I have no doubt
that old Graywhisker knows where that collar is, just as well as he
knows where the gray kitten is.”

“You don’t mean it!” exclaimed the sparrow.

“Yes, I do,” said Mrs. Polly decidedly. “I believe that Graywhisker
sent that mouse to entice the half-blind gray kitten, and that he’s
got her safely hidden somewhere, for he wouldn’t dare really to let her
come to any harm.”

“How can we find her?” asked the barn-cat.

“All of you keep your ears open and perhaps you’ll pick up some news.
If we find out where she is, the children can probably rescue her.
They’ll soon notice that she is missing and hunt for her.”

[Illustration: The Barn Cat and her Kittens.]




CHAPTER XV.


“WE’RE going to play ‘circus’ in the barn this afternoon,” said Posy at
dinner, “and we’re going to have the kittens for the animals.”

“Nancy plays circus first-class,” said Tom; “she isn’t such a scare-cat
as most girls are.”

“Where did she learn anything about the circus?” asked Papa. “I don’t
believe she ever saw anything but the tents.”

“Yes,” answered Posy eagerly; “her says when the circus was here once
her skun the fence and peeked through a hole under the tent and her saw
the horses’ feet.”

“Poor child!” said Papa, “the next time the circus comes she shan’t
‘skin’ the fence, but shall go with you and see the whole performance.”

“Hannah,” said Posy after dinner, “have you seen anything of the
barn-cat’s collar? Her has lost it.”

“No,” answered Hannah, “I haven’t seen it, and what’s more I don’t
expect to. I guess it won’t be the last thing that you’ll find missing.
You’d better look after your things a little sharper, for I don’t trust
that Nancy too fur.”

“Nancy is a good little girl, Hannah. Her doesn’t steal. It’s very mean
to say such things,” said Posy angrily.

“Well, it won’t do no harm to keep your things locked up,” replied
Hannah.

Nancy came in from the barn, where she had been to feed the kittens.

“I can’t find the gray kitten anywhere,” she said, looking very much
distressed. “I’ve hunted and called, but she doesn’t answer.”

“Perhaps the rats have carried her off,” said Posy, with a troubled air.

“I guess she’s gone to hunt for mice,” suggested Tom, who appeared at
that moment. “She won’t run off. Let’s go and play ‘circus’ in the
barn-chamber. You bring the house-kittens, Posy, and I’ll get the
barn-kittens.”

“You needn’t mew so loud,” said Posy to the house-cat as she took up
the kittens. “I won’t hurt your babies, and I’ll bring ’em back all
safe. They are going to be teached to play circus.”

The house-cat was not at all afraid to trust her kittens with Posy.
What she said was: “I don’t like this way of snatching up my kittens
and carrying ’em off to play with those barn-kittens. I expect they’ll
get to be just as common as they are, if this isn’t put a stop to.”

The kittens themselves, however, had no such fears, and were delighted
at the prospect of a play with the lively barn-kittens; for it was not
very entertaining to lie in the box by the kitchen stove, and Hannah
always drove them back if they ventured out of it when the children
were not there. So when Posy dumped them on the barn-floor by the side
of the tiger-kittens, they began to play in earnest.

“Let’s have a tiger-hunt,” said Tom, after watching the kittens
at their play; “and the barn-kittens can be the tigers, and the
house-kittens can be our hunting-dogs.”

“Oh, splendid!” cried Posy, clapping her hands and jumping up and down.

“First, we’ll make a cave,” said Tom, “because tigers live in caves,
you know;” and he began to dig a cave in the side of the hay-mow.
Nancy entered into the work with great zest, and soon a fine cave was
finished and the tigers were placed in it.

“What fun it would be if they could understand what we said to them!”
said Nancy. “I used to think that Billy understood what I told him, he
always seemed so sorry when I told him how hungry and tired I was.”

“Mamma says that animals know more than we think they do,” said Tom.

It really did seem as if the tiger-kittens knew what was expected of
them; for they stayed quite still in the cave, crouching down in the
dark, and the little house-kittens sat down and looked up at Tom while
he explained the game, just as if they understood every word he said.

“Now,” said Tom, “we’ll be the hunters and we’ll go out hunting for
tigers, and the dogs will run about searching for game, and then we’ll
discover the cave and send ’em in to drive the tigers out.”

“I should think really and truly tigers would eat the dogs up,” said
Nancy, who had a very practical mind.

Tom looked somewhat crestfallen at this view of the question, but Posy
said,--

“We’ll _play_ these were good, kind tigers, and didn’t hurt anybody,
won’t we?”

So it was agreed that these tigers were exceptional tigers, and the
hunting-party started out in search of game.

“Dear me!” cried Posy suddenly, “I saw a great ugly rat run across
there.”

“It couldn’t have been a rat,” said Tom. “They don’t dare to come out
here; they’re afraid of the barn-cat.”

“It _was_ a rat,” persisted Posy; “I know it was. It had a great long
tail, and it had long yellow teeth, and one of them was broken off. I
do wish the barn-cat were here.”

“No matter,” said Nancy, who was eager to continue the tiger-hunt;
“he’s gone now, and I don’t believe he’ll come back.”

So the hunting-party started once more, and the dogs kept ahead, just
exactly as if they had understood what Tom said about the game; and
soon they came to the cave, and went up to it and looked in.

“Hush!” said Tom, “the dogs have scented game;” and the party stood
still.

“Go in and drive ’em out!” said Tom to the dogs; and in they went, and
soon out came the tigers followed by the dogs. The tigers ran a short
distance and then turned and faced the dogs, and the dogs pounced
on them, and they rolled over and over till the children laughed so
heartily they were obliged to sit down.

Soon one of the tigers jumped up and ran off, and one of the dogs
chased him into a corner, and then the tiger did something very
unexpected. All at once he stopped and put his head on one side as if
he were listening to something, and then he gave a little mew, and both
he and the hunting-dog began pulling the hay away with their claws.

“They hear a mouse, I do believe,” said Tom.

“They wouldn’t dig the hay away like that for a mouse,” said Nancy;
“they’d sit still and watch till it came out.”

“What can it be?” said the children, looking at each other in surprise,
for the other two kittens had joined them, and all four were evidently
in a state of great excitement.

“Let’s help ’em,” said Nancy; and she at once began pulling the hay
away in large handfuls. Soon she heard a faint “meaw!” from beneath the
hay, and she kept on digging till at last out walked the little gray
kitten!

“You dear thing!” cried Posy, catching her up in her arms and hugging
her. “How did you get in there? Her must have some milk right straight
off, Nancy.”

Tom and Nancy followed Posy into the kitchen; and the barn-cat, who had
just returned from a hunting expedition of her own, followed too, and
jumped on the window-sill of the kitchen that she might see what went
on without being driven away by the house-cat or Hannah.

The little gray kitten was soon drinking her saucer of milk
contentedly, while the children stood around as happy as she herself
was; but not one of them was more gratified than the barn-cat, who was
so fond of her little _protégé_.

“Why, where has my necklace gone,” said Posy suddenly, putting her hand
up to her neck,--“my pretty amber necklace that Uncle Tom gave me?”

“You must have dropped it in the barn while we were playing,” said
Nancy; “I’ll run back and look.”

After a few minutes Nancy came back, walking slowly and with a
disappointed expression on her face. “I’ve looked everywhere,” she
said, “but I can’t find it.”

“I didn’t suppose you would find it,” said Hannah dryly. “I guess
you’ve seen the last of your necklace, Posy; it’s gone to find the
cat’s collar, I guess. Come,” she continued, turning to Nancy, “you
just understand that this won’t do here.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” stammered poor Nancy, looking pale and
frightened.

“Yes, you do understand well enough,” said Hannah. “You just hand over
that necklace and that cat’s collar, or there’ll be trouble, I can tell
you.”

“I don’t know where they are,” said Nancy, trembling. “I haven’t
touched them. The necklace was on Posy’s neck when we were playing in
the barn.”

“Yes, I know that,” answered Hannah; “and you may as well own up first
as last. Come, hand it over;” and she laid her hand on Nancy’s shoulder
and gave her a shake.

“Indeed I don’t know where it is,” cried Nancy, bursting into tears;
“_do_ believe me!”

“She _didn’t_ steal it,” said Tom stoutly; “I know she didn’t! Here,
you just let her alone, old Hannah!”

“Hannah,” said Posy, stamping her little foot, “you’re a bad, bad
girl, and I don’t love you one bit!” and Posy too burst into tears of
excitement.

“We’ll see who is the bad one before long,” said Hannah calmly.

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” said Tom fiercely, and almost
ready to cry with Nancy and Posy.

“Why, what’s all this?” said Mamma, coming into the kitchen. “What has
happened?” and she looked in surprise from one to the other of the
excited group.

“Posy’s necklace has disappeared, and I said I thought Nancy took it,
and I say so now,” said Hannah decidedly.




CHAPTER XVI.


“NANCY _didn’t_ steal my necklace, I _know_ her didn’t,” said Posy.

“Of course she didn’t,” said Tom; “it must have dropped off while we
were playing tiger.”

“Then why isn’t it there?” asked Hannah triumphantly; “it couldn’t have
run away by itself, I suppose.”

“Why do you accuse Nancy of taking it, Hannah?” asked Mrs. Winton.

“Because it isn’t the first thing that has disappeared since she came
here. My silver thimble is missing too. I had it yesterday when I was
sitting in the porch sewing.”

“But it is very wrong to accuse anybody unless you have proof of his
guilt,” said Mrs. Winton.

“Oh, do _please_ believe me, ma’am!” said Nancy, with the tears running
down her cheeks and a most distressed look in her face. “How could I be
so mean as to steal from people who have been so kind to me,--and from
dear little Posy too! Oh, do _please_ believe me!”

“I _will_ believe you, Nancy,” said Mrs. Winton kindly. “Now stop
crying, and remember that we will be your friends as long as you are a
good little girl. Run out to play, children, and perhaps you will find
the necklace.”

So Nancy dried her tears and was tenderly conducted out of doors by Tom
and Posy on either side; and they proved such good comforters that in a
short time she was laughing heartily.

“Now, Hannah,” said Mrs. Winton, when the children were gone, “I want
you to give up the thought that Nancy is a thief. She is a poor,
neglected child, and I should think that all your sympathies would go
out towards her.”

“I don’t believe in her honesty,” replied Hannah, unmoved. “I made up
my mind she was a thief the first time I sot eyes on her.”

“First impressions are not to be trusted,” said Mrs. Winton. “I
shall believe the child honest until I have reason to doubt her, and
certainly there has been nothing to prove her guilt yet.”

Hannah didn’t dare say more, but she secretly resolved to watch the
child closely.

The barn-cat, sitting on the window-sill, had heard the whole
conversation, and so had the little gray kitten; and the barn-cat
reported it faithfully to Mrs. Polly, who was greatly troubled by it.
“I’ll think it over and see if I can find any way to prove Nancy’s
innocence,” she said. “‘Give a dog a bad name and it will stick to
him,’ is a very true saying, and we must clear this poor child’s
reputation, or by-and-by others besides Hannah will begin to suspect
her. Yes, I’ll think the matter over carefully and see what can be
done. The sparrow moves his family over here to-day, and I am very glad
of it. I am in hopes he will turn over a new leaf and stay at home more
in the future.”

“Seeing is believing,” said the barn-cat dryly; “I haven’t much hope of
him myself.”

It was true that the sparrow was about to move. Mrs. Polly’s sharp
eyes had discovered a deserted swallow’s nest just under the roof of
the piazza, in a position where she could watch what went on; and
she proposed that he should put it in order for his family. The plan
pleased the sparrow, and he at once set to work to build. He brought
bits of straw and twine and hair, in fact anything he could find, and
put it inside the swallow’s nest. He was a careless fellow, and didn’t
spend any more time than was necessary over the building; but when it
was finished it was quite a nice little house,--a great improvement,
certainly, on the house in the elm-tree that his family now occupied.

The next day the sparrow appeared, escorting his bright-eyed wife and
her three little ones, now fine strong young birds; and they seemed
much pleased with their new quarters.

“That bright-eyed Mrs. Sparrow is a nice little thing,” said Mrs. Polly
to herself, “much too nice to be neglected by that scamp of a husband
of hers. I’ll keep a sharp lookout, and set matters straight if he goes
on in the old way.”

The sparrow was very attentive to his family the first day, and brought
the finest worms and insects he could find for them to eat, and busied
himself for their comfort in many ways, and the bright-eyed sparrow
looked very happy; but when twilight came on the sparrow became a
little restless and nervous, as if he had something on his mind. Mrs.
Polly’s shrewd eyes noticed all this, and she said to herself,--

“It’s just as I thought; but I _did_ think he’d have sense enough to
stay at home the first night. It’s much worse than I thought.”

“Good-night, my dear,” said the sparrow, coming up to his bright-eyed
wife and giving her a hasty kiss; “I’ll be in as early as I can.”

“You don’t mean to say you’re going to leave me the very first night
after we’ve been separated so long, and in a strange place too?” said
the bright-eyed sparrow indignantly.

“Only for a short time, my dear. It’s an engagement I made some time
ago. Very sorry, upon my honor; but I must keep my word!”

“How _can_ you treat me so?” said the bright-eyed sparrow. “You ought
to be ashamed of yourself. I’ll go back to-morrow, and never live with
you any more!”

The sparrow considered a moment. He _was_ a good-natured fellow in
spite of his roving propensities. He looked at the bright-eyed sparrow;
she was crying, and he couldn’t leave her feeling so unhappy. He went
up to her and said in a very tender tone,--

“See here, my dear! don’t you know that you’re going to work the wrong
way? I am the easiest fellow to manage you ever saw if you know how to
take me.”

“I wish I knew the way to take you,” answered the bright-eyed sparrow;
“I’d take it fast enough. _I_ manage _you_, indeed!” and she gave a
scornful little laugh.

“Did you ever hear that you could catch more flies with molasses than
with vinegar?” said the sparrow. “Well, my dear, I am willing to be
caught with molasses, but clip my pinions if you’ll catch _me_ with
vinegar! Come, my dear,” he said very gently and putting his little
head close to hers, “if you want me to stay at home tell me that you
care a little for me, and make me feel good, instead of telling me what
a worthless fellow I am.”

“Will you really and truly stay?” said the bright-eyed sparrow, smiling
through her tears.

“Really and truly,” answered the sparrow tenderly.

“Then I’ll think you are the dearest and best husband in the whole
world,” answered the bright-eyed sparrow; and she reached up her little
beak and gave him a hearty kiss.

“That’s as it should be,” said Mrs. Polly to herself, with her nod of
satisfaction, “but it won’t last long. He’ll be trying it over again
soon, and they’ll not always make up so easy. I _do_ wish he had firmer
principles!”

Mrs. Polly was right. It _was_ not very long before there was trouble
again in the sparrow’s household. One afternoon the bright-eyed sparrow
looked very anxious. She flew backward and forward, and perched on the
top of the tallest trees and looked about in every direction, and then
she flew home again and peered out of her little house with a very
distressed expression.

“I know what it all means,” said Mrs. Polly; “that scamp of a husband
of hers is off again. I must give him a talking to. He ought to set a
better example to his young family.”

“Good-evening, my dear,” she called to the bright-eyed sparrow, who was
just then looking out of her house; “hasn’t your husband come home
yet? He ought to be in by this time.”

“Oh! he’ll come soon, I dare say,” answered the bright-eyed sparrow
cheerfully; “he’s probably been detained by business.”

“Don’t feel anxious, my dear,” said Mrs. Polly; “nothing will happen to
him.”

“Oh, I’m not at all anxious,” said the bright-eyed sparrow, with a
great attempt at cheerfulness; but her voice was not as hopeful as her
words, and it had a sad tone that quite touched Mrs. Polly.

“He’s been away all day long,” whispered the canary to Mrs. Polly; “I
saw him go off early this morning, and if she sees him before to-morrow
morning it’s more than I think she will.”

“I declare it is too bad, too bad!” said Mrs. Polly, shaking her head
gravely.

The canary was right. Just before daybreak the next morning they heard
the sparrow come home; and although the dining-room window was closed,
they knew from the sounds that reached them that the sparrows had a
quarrel. Mrs. Polly waited until the sparrow was awake,--for he slept
late after his dissipation, and it was afternoon before he was fully
awake,--and then she called to them that she had something to say to
them.

Both of the birds flew down and seated themselves on the
flowering-currant bush before the dining-room window, where Mrs. Polly
could converse easily with them.

[Illustration: “Why do you accuse Nancy of taking it?”--_Page 204._]




CHAPTER XVII.


MRS. POLLY looked seriously from the sparrow, who sat pluming his
ruffled feathers, to his little wife, who looked as fresh and
bright-eyed as ever.

“I want to have a little talk with you,” began Mrs. Polly in a serious
tone, “and I take it that this is as good a time as any.”

“Delighted, I’m sure,” said the sparrow indifferently, as he continued
his toilet.

“I’ve noticed,” said Mrs. Polly severely, for she was not pleased with
the sparrow’s frivolous manner, “that you neglect your family a good
deal. I’ve seen more than you are aware of.”

“Flattered, I’m sure, by the attention,” replied the sparrow, carefully
picking out a particularly rough feather and drawing his beak through
it.

“My friend,” said Mrs. Polly in the same serious tone, “you won’t deter
me from doing my duty by such frivolous remarks. I have lived in the
world long enough to see many generations of sparrows come and go, and
I shall _not_ see a young couple beginning life start out on such a
mistaken course as you have chosen, without making an attempt to set
them right. Pray, what were you married for, I should like to know?”

The sparrow considered a moment and then said waggishly,--

“Give it up.”

“I can tell you,” answered Mrs. Polly. “You saw that pretty bright-eyed
sparrow, and you made her think there never was such a handsome,
wonderful fellow as you were, and you married her without a thought of
the future. It never occurred to you that you must take care of her
and protect her. She has done her part, and has been a faithful mother
to your children; but how have you done yours? Flying around here and
there, flirting with this one and rollicking with that one. I know your
ways. Your family would have starved long ago if it had not been for
your little wife there.”

“He has been a very good husband indeed,” said the bright-eyed sparrow
warmly. “I have nothing to complain of.”

“It is very loving of you to defend your husband, my dear, but he
doesn’t really deserve it. I saw you, last evening, looking out for him
so anxiously, and I heard him, too, come home this morning just before
daybreak, and I knew you had words about it. You make up, I know, and
are very affectionate until the next outbreak occurs; but you may take
my word for it that every quarrel you have weakens the love you bear
each other, and by-and-by there will be no makings up, and a feeling of
bitterness will take the place of the love you now have for each other.”

Both her listeners were silent, as Mrs. Polly paused for a moment and
looked seriously at them; then she continued,--

“I have seen many young couples begin as you have begun and grow apart
from each other; but I take too much interest in you, my friends, to
see you go wrong without a word of warning. Think of your young family
and the responsibility of setting a good example to them; their young
eyes are keener than you think they are.”

The sparrow had thrown aside his indifferent manner, and listened
attentively to the last part of Mrs. Polly’s remarks; and as she
concluded, he hopped on the bough beside the bright-eyed sparrow and
nestled affectionately against her.

“You are right,” he said; “I am a worthless vagabond, and don’t
deserve such a good little wife as I’ve got; but with all your wisdom,
Mrs. Polly, haven’t you learned that you can’t teach an old dog new
tricks?”

“Nonsense!” said Mrs. Polly decidedly; “the idea of a bright young
fellow like you talking in that style! You’ve got sense enough, and
you’re good-hearted and brave; now don’t throw away all those good
qualities, but use them to make of yourself a useful member of society.”

“I’ll be shot if I don’t try,” said the sparrow, with an affectionate
glance at the bright-eyed sparrow; and judging from the manner in which
she nestled against him, it was very evident to Mrs. Polly that there
was plenty of love left.

Meanwhile Graywhisker sat in his hole, laying plans for the future.

“It’s provoking,” he said to himself, “that they found the gray
kitten so soon. However, I caused them some trouble, and it couldn’t
have been very pleasant for her to be penned up over night in the
hay without food; there’s some comfort in that. Then I’ve got Posy’s
amber necklace all safe. She didn’t think the ‘great ugly rat’ that
frightened her so when she was playing in the barn knew enough to pick
it up when it dropped off. Well, that’s encouraging too; and then
Hannah’s thimble,--here it is, safe and sound, and here it will stay;
and then, my dear Mrs. Barn-cat, here’s your fine collar that you were
so fond of. You were in such an excited state of mind when you lost
it off that you didn’t know it had gone. Here it is, and here it will
remain too. I should like to see you venture in here again, my fine
young cock-sparrow; you wouldn’t get off quite so easily the next time,
I can tell you. I shan’t go out again without leaving somebody here on
guard. Hallo! who’s that?” he exclaimed, as his quick ears caught a
faint sound. “Oh, I know your light step, Mrs. Silverskin; come in.”

Mrs. Silverskin appeared in her usual timid manner. “I have heard
something I thought you would be pleased to know,” she said in her
little weak voice. “I was hiding behind the kitchen door yesterday,
where I picked up a few crumbs the children had dropped from their
lunch, and I heard Hannah tell Mrs. Winton that Nancy was a thief, and
had stolen Posy’s amber necklace and Hannah’s silver thimble and the
cat’s collar.”

“Good!” exclaimed Graywhisker, with a disagreeable chuckle that
displayed his broken front tooth very unpleasantly; “nothing could be
better! and what did Mrs. Winton say?”

“She said she didn’t believe it,--that she should believe her innocent
until she had proof of her guilt.”

“She _shall_ have proof of it,” said the old rat maliciously, “and
before long too.”

“How so?” asked Mrs. Silverskin.

“It’s easy enough to bring that about,” replied Graywhisker. “Don’t you
see that if Hannah’s thimble is hidden among Nancy’s things it will be
sufficient proof of her guilt?”

“But who will put it there?” asked Mrs. Silverskin, who had a secret
misgiving that the task would fall upon her.

“You!” said Graywhisker; “haven’t I done favors enough for you?”

“I came very near being caught by the house-cat when I stole Hannah’s
thimble,” said poor Mrs. Silverskin, “and I am afraid to go there so
often.”

“Very well, Madam, then you can take the consequences,” replied
Graywhisker fiercely.

“I suppose I must,” answered the little mouse sadly; “but if anything
happens to me I hope you will see that my family are provided for.”

“You need have no fears for them,” answered Graywhisker. “To-night,
when all is still, you take the thimble and hide it among some of
Nancy’s things in her chamber. Hannah will find it before long, and
then we’ll see how long they will believe Nancy innocent.”

A little later the sparrow was flying by Major, who was hitched to a
post in the yard, ready to go to the depot for Mr. Winton, when he
neighed to him to stop.

“Come here a minute and sit near me while I tell you something very
important,” he said.

The sparrow did as he was bid, and perched on top of the post, close to
Major’s nose.

“A little while ago, while I was taking my after-dinner nap,” began
Major, “I heard voices, and I can tell you my ears were wide open. I
soon discovered that the speakers were Mrs. Silverskin and a friend of
hers. Mrs. Silverskin said, ‘I am all of a tremble, for I’ve just had
an interview with Graywhisker, and he insists on my taking Hannah’s
silver thimble and putting it among Nancy’s things, to make them think
she stole it.’

“‘Well, what is there to tremble about?’ said the other mouse; ‘I don’t
see anything alarming in that.’

“‘Just think of the danger I run in passing the house-cat,’ said Mrs.
Silverskin; ‘she very nearly caught me the other day when I stole the
thimble.’

“‘She isn’t half so bad as the barn-cat,’ said the other mouse.

“‘I know she isn’t quite so quick, but she’s too quick to suit me.’

“‘I wouldn’t go, then; tell Graywhisker to go himself.’

“‘Dear me! you don’t know him as well as I do. I _must_ go!’

“‘Well, then, why need you go through the kitchen at all?’

“‘How in the world can I get into the chamber without? I can’t climb up
the side of the house,’ said Mrs. Silverskin.

“‘Don’t you know the way through the shed? You just go through the
shed, and up the stairs that lead to the loft above, where they keep
stores, and you’ll find a little hole down at the right-hand corner
that leads into the chamber. I helped gnaw it one night, and I know all
about it. I’ve bitten off pieces of Hannah’s tallow candle more than
once.’

“‘It’s a great relief to know that,’ said Mrs. Silverskin; ‘thank you
for the information.’”

“And I thank her for the information too,” said the sparrow. “I can’t
attend to it myself,” he added, with an air of importance, “because
I’m a family man and don’t like to be knocking around nights; but our
friend the house-cat will be on hand, I’ve no doubt. The sooner I
inform her of the matter the better;” and he flew off in search of the
house-cat.

[Illustration: “The sparrow perched on the top of the post.”--_Page
223._]




CHAPTER XVIII.


THAT night when Hannah was ready to go to bed, the house-cat was
nowhere to be found. She didn’t like to go to bed and lock her out, for
she feared she might come home during the night and make a disturbance;
and, moreover, she didn’t fancy the thought of getting up after she had
gone to bed, to let her in.

Hannah went to the door and called, but there was no answer; and after
going about the garden, calling “Puss, puss,” her patience gave out
and she went back to the kitchen. “Stay out, then, if you want to; you
won’t catch me getting up to let you in, if you yawl all night,” she
said, as she shut and bolted the door.

The house-kittens might have given her some information on the subject,
if she could have understood their language,--for their mother had
told them, early in the evening, not to be alarmed if she were out all
night, as she had very important business to attend to; but Hannah only
thought they were mewing for their mother, when they tried to make her
understand. So Hannah went up to bed, where Nancy was already sound
asleep in her little cot-bed and happily unconscious of the deep plot
laid for her by the evil-minded old rat.

“You look innocent enough,” said Hannah, as her eyes fell on the
sleeping child, who was smiling in her sleep at some pleasant dream;
“but I don’t trust you,--appearances are too suspicious.”

Soon Hannah too was fast asleep, and the house silent.

Then, when everything was quiet, old Graywhisker, with Hannah’s
silver thimble in his mouth, came softly out of his hole and looked
cautiously around to see if the barn-cat were in sight. Not a sound was
to be heard, and he crept slyly along till he came to a hole in the
corner of the barn farthest from the barn-cat’s nest; for he didn’t
dare trust the private entrance any more, and had made this new exit
with the help of some of the younger rats.

When he found himself out of doors he looked anxiously about. Yes,
there was Mrs. Silverskin, just where she had agreed to be; and he went
towards her.

“Here is the thimble, and mind you don’t lose it!” he said, as he
dropped it noiselessly on the ground in front of the little mouse. “Be
sure you put it among Nancy’s things, where Hannah will be likely to
see it.”

“I will do my best,” said Mrs. Silverskin softly.

“You are quite sure you understand the way through the shed?” asked
Graywhisker.

“Quite sure,” answered the little mouse; “I don’t see how I could
possibly miss it.”

“Well, then, all is quiet now, and the sooner you are off the better.”

Mrs. Silverskin took up the thimble and started on her expedition, and
the old rat returned to his hole to await her return.

When the little mouse came to the shed-door, she stopped and looked
cautiously around. Not a sound was to be heard, and she crept through
a little hole under the door and entered the shed. Everything was very
still,--not even a mouse was stirring besides herself,--and she soon
came to the stairs that led to the loft above.

A ray of moonlight fell across the stairs, and little Mrs. Silverskin
stopped a minute to rest and laid the silver thimble down. It shone
very prettily in the moonlight, and she looked at it longingly.

“How my children would like it for a plaything!” she said to herself;
“it seems a shame they can’t have it. It is too bad to make them think
that poor child is a thief. She has a very good heart. I heard them
say she used to save crumbs for the mice when she didn’t have enough
to eat herself. Posy, too,--she is such a dear child, I hate to make
her so unhappy. I believe I will keep it for my babies, and make old
Graywhisker think I put it in Nancy’s room. But then if he should ever
find out the truth it would be the end of me; and he’d be sure to find
it out, for he knows everything. The barn-cat came near getting him the
other day,--I’m sure I wish she had. Dear me! what was that noise?”

Little Mrs. Silverskin trembled like a leaf; but all was still again,
and she concluded it was only something that fell down in the loft
above. So, when she was quite sure everything was quiet again, she
took up the thimble and went on very cautiously.

She reached the head of the stairs and found herself in the loft,
and over there in the corner was the hole just as her friend had
described it to her. “If I wasn’t sure the house-cat was locked up in
the kitchen, I should think she was somewhere about,” said little Mrs.
Silverskin to herself, “for I feel cold shivers down my spine just as
I always do when she or the barn-cat is about; but I’m only nervous, I
guess.”

So the little mouse went on her way, and had nearly reached the hole,
when suddenly from behind a barrel darted the house-cat, her large
yellow eyes glaring fiercely in the moonlight.

The poor little mouse gave a squeak of terror, and dropping the silver
thimble ran swiftly for her life, closely followed by the house-cat.
One pause or misstep and all would have been over with Mrs. Silverskin;
and thinking of her babies at home who were waiting for her, she ran
as she never ran before, dreading every moment to feel the house-cat’s
cruel claws; but she reached the hole under the shed-door in safety,
and had just time to whisk her tail in after her when the house-cat’s
claws were at the entrance.

How her little heart did beat when she reached the barn; and how much
faster still it beat when she remembered that she had left Hannah’s
silver thimble behind, and must give an account of herself to old
Graywhisker! Yes, there was the old rat peering out of his hole, and
she couldn’t pass without his seeing her. His sharp old eyes soon spied
her out, and he called to her to stop.

“Well,” he said, eying her sharply as she stood trembling before him,
“how did you get along? Come, don’t keep me waiting here all night!”

“I got along very well,” said the little mouse, “until I reached the
loft, and I was almost up to the hole in the corner when all at once
out sprang the house-cat and I had to run for dear life. I never had
such a narrow escape in my life.”

“And the thimble!” exclaimed the old rat in a fierce tone; “where is
the thimble?”

“I dropped it in my fright,” said the little mouse in a shaking voice.
“I couldn’t run with it in my mouth; the house-cat would surely have
caught me if I had.”

“What!” squeaked the old rat. “You lost the thimble, did you?” and he
sprang so suddenly at the poor little mouse that she gave a loud squeal
of terror,--so loud that the barn-cat awoke from one of her light
cat-naps and quickly started up. As she appeared, both Graywhisker and
Mrs. Silverskin ran.

“I believe I’m more afraid of Graywhisker than I am even of the
barn-cat,” said the little mouse to herself, as she reached her hole
above the mow in safety. “Dear me, what a fearful night this has been!
To be almost caught by the house-cat, pounced on by Graywhisker, and
then chased by the barn-cat! Graywhisker is certainly the worst of the
three! What _will_ he do to me for losing the thimble? I shan’t dare to
stir out of my house till the affair has blown over.”

The next morning the house-kittens were busily playing.

“What has got into those kittens? They act as if they were crazy,” said
Hannah, when she had nearly fallen over them for the fifth time before
breakfast. “Here, you run out of doors and play there,” she continued,
driving them out; “I don’t care to break my neck just yet!” So out the
kittens went, and the same performance was gone through with there.

“What can those kittens have to play with, do you suppose?” said
Nancy, as the children came in from the garden to breakfast; “they are
rolling something that shines;” and they ran up to examine it more
closely.

“It is Hannah’s silver thimble, I do believe!” exclaimed Tom, as he
picked up the shining plaything.

“Oh, I’m so glad!” cried Nancy joyfully; “now she won’t think I stole
it.”

“I shall show it to her right off this very minute,” said Posy,
snatching the thimble out of Tom’s hand and running into the kitchen
with it in a very earnest manner.

“Hannah,” she said, holding up the thimble, “here is your silver
thimble,--the house-kittens had it to play with, and Nancy didn’t steal
it, there now!”

Hannah put the thimble in her pocket without a word; but this didn’t
satisfy Posy, who liked to see justice done, and always felt
distressed if people were not harmonious in their relations to each
other.

“_Now_ you know her isn’t a thief, don’t you, Hannah?” said Posy in her
most winning tones.

“I suppose she didn’t take the thimble,” replied Hannah; “but the
necklace and the cat’s collar haven’t turned up yet.”

“Hannah!” cried Posy indignantly, “I think you are a very mean girl,
and I shan’t ever come and help you cook any more!”

“Oh, do!” said Hannah, trying to look very serious; “however shall I
get along with my cooking if you don’t help me?”

“No,” replied Posy decidedly, “I shan’t ever help you make cookies or
anything else; see if I do!”

[Illustration: Mrs. Silverskin drops the thimble.--_Page 232._]




CHAPTER XIX.


THE next morning Mr. and Mrs. Winton were talking earnestly together in
the dining-room, and Mrs. Polly was listening with all her might, for
the conversation turned on a subject that interested her greatly. At
a very important stage of the conversation the door opened, and Posy
entered.

Mrs. Polly was greatly annoyed at the interruption, and at once called
“Posy,” in a voice so like Tom’s that for a moment Posy thought it
really was Tom’s voice; the second time Polly called, Posy detected the
deception.

“I know your voice, Mrs. Polly,” said Posy, “you can’t fool me quite so
easy;” and the large peanuts in Polly’s cage looked so very inviting
that she couldn’t resist the temptation of fishing one out, Mrs.
Polly’s sharp eyes watching her fingers and trying to give them a nip,
although she wouldn’t have had the heart to hurt Posy in spite of her
annoyance.

“What do you want, Posy?” asked Mamma, who had stopped talking as soon
as the little girl appeared.

“Miss Pompadour is going to be married,” said Posy, “and her wants a
nice handkerchief with pretty lace on it.”

Mamma agreed to let her have the handkerchief provided she would return
it, and told Posy where she could find it; but Posy still lingered,
much to Mrs. Polly’s vexation, for the interesting conversation that
Posy had interrupted would not be resumed as long as she remained in
the room.

“Her wants a fan too,” said Posy.

“A fan?” said Mamma. “Oh no, she doesn’t need a fan.”

“Yes, her does,” persisted Posy, “her’s to be married, you know, and
her must have a fan to blush on.”

“‘To blush on’?” asked Mamma. “Why, what _do_ you mean, Posy?”

“Why, don’t you ’member ‘Jenny blushed behind her fan’? Peoples always
does, Tom says.”

“If Tom says so it must be so,” said Papa. “I think Mamma can let you
have a fan for such an important occasion, Posy.”

“You are a dear, kind Papa,” said Posy, hugging him; “and if you’ll
give me a dollar I’ll buy you such a _beautiful_ birthday present! I
may as well tell you what it is, for you’ll forget all about it before
the time comes.”

“Don’t tell me,” said Papa, “I like to be surprised; but you shall have
the dollar when the time comes if you’ll run off now, for Mamma has
something to say to me.”

So off ran Posy for the handkerchief and fan, and when they were alone
again Mrs. Winton continued:--

“As I was telling you, you don’t know how unhappy I feel about Nancy.
Hannah insists that she took Posy’s necklace--”

“Rats!” called out Polly in a loud tone, “rats!”

“Be quiet, Polly,” said Mrs. Winton.--“I don’t think it right to
suspect the child without proof; but I must say that it looks very
suspicious, and then, too, when Posy missed the necklace she offered to
run back to the barn and look for it; but she felt so badly when Hannah
accused her, that I pitied her and didn’t believe she could have taken
it.”

“Rats!” called Polly again.

“She doesn’t look like a dishonest child,” said Mr. Winton; “but the
poor thing has been so neglected and abused that it wouldn’t be
strange if the temptation were too great for her sometimes. We must be
on the lookout, for if she is really dishonest this will not be the
last of her thefts.”

“The children are very fond of her, and she certainly does seem devoted
to them, especially Posy. I must say it makes me very uneasy to think
my innocent children may be influenced by her to do something wrong.”

“I don’t believe it,” said Mr. Winton, “I don’t believe she will injure
either of them; but I would watch her closely, and if you have reason
to suspect her again, investigate the matter thoroughly, for the poor
child has never had any care and you may perhaps be the means of saving
her.”

“Then Hannah says,” resumed Mrs. Winton, “that she misses a good deal
from the stores in the loft over the shed,--sugar and raisins and such
things,--and she is sure Nancy takes them.”

“Rats! rats!” screamed Mrs. Polly again, so loudly that Mr. Winton
exclaimed,--

“What a nuisance that bird is when she screams so! I wonder if she does
see a rat! She sticks to it so persistently I shouldn’t wonder;” and he
rose and looked out of the window. There were no signs of rats there,
however; the only living creatures he saw were the little sparrows who
had a nest under the eaves of the piazza.

“Well, I must go,” he said, as he came back from the window. “Major
will think that I have forgotten he is waiting harnessed;” and soon
Mrs. Polly and the canary were the only occupants of the dining-room.

“Provoking!” exclaimed Mrs. Polly. “I do think human beings are the
stupidest things! Here I told them, as plainly as could be, that
the rats stole Posy’s necklace and the sugar and raisins, and they
couldn’t understand! Talk about animals not being as intelligent as
human beings! Why can’t they understand us as well as we can them, I
should like to know!”

“It does seem strange they didn’t know what you meant,” said the
canary; “I am sure you spoke plainly enough.”

“I can’t understand,” said Mrs. Polly in an irritable tone, “how they
can be so stupid. Here they know that the rats steal Major’s oats, and
that it is the habit of rats to steal anything that attracts their
attention, and yet it never occurs to them that they are the ones that
take the sugar and raisins! If the barn-cat and the house-cat were not
so jealous of each other and didn’t quarrel all the time, they might
catch old Graywhisker, for he is the one that makes all the trouble;
but no, they can’t work together, and while one is at one end of the
hole, he slips out of the other. If they could only agree together for
one to watch at each end, they’d catch him fast enough.”

“There’ll be trouble as long as he lives,” sighed the canary. “Posy
said Michael was going to set a trap for him.”

“Much good that will do,” replied Mrs. Polly scornfully; “he’s too old
a head to walk into a trap.”

All this time the barn-cat and the house-cat had been devoting all
their energies to catching Graywhisker. It was very seldom that either
one or the other was not in the way when he attempted to venture out;
and the barn-cat set the gray kitten and the little tiger-kittens to
watch when she could not.

The gray kitten had grown stronger than she was when she first came to
live there, and the young tiger-kittens considered themselves a match
even for Graywhisker. As for poor little Mrs. Silverskin, she dared not
venture out at all in these troubled times; for, between her fear of
Graywhisker and the cats, times were hard indeed.

Old Graywhisker felt that his case was becoming desperate. He sat
in his house and looked around on his once well-filled larder. Not
a crust, or rind of cheese or pork, was left. His last crumb was
gone, and where was he to get more? It was now several days since he
had dared venture out, and it was evident the cats were bent on his
destruction, for there was now never a time when one of them was not
about. He knew he must make a bold move and try to escape from the cats
or else die of starvation.

“You’ll never catch Graywhisker there,” said the barn-cat to the
house-cat, who was watching the hole outside the barn. “He comes out by
half a dozen different ways.”

“Then why don’t you catch him yourself? If you know so much better than
anybody else, I should think it would be easy enough,” retorted the
house-cat angrily.

“I intend to catch him,” replied the barn-cat; “he’ll soon be starved
out and _have_ to leave his hole.”

“And I intend to catch him too,” said the house-cat.

“Between you both you’ll lose him,” said the sparrow to himself, who,
perched on a pear-tree, had overheard the conversation.

Meanwhile Graywhisker grew more and more hungry. He searched his house
over and over again, hoping that he might have overlooked a crust, but
he could find nothing. Then his eyes fell on the barn-cat’s collar,
and he gave the ugly grin that displayed the broken front tooth so
unpleasantly. “If I can’t make you ornamental I can at least make you
useful, my dear Mrs. Barn-cat,” he said. “Leather is not as much to
my taste as pork or cheese or sugar, but it is better than nothing;
so here goes!” and taking the pretty red collar between his forepaws,
he bit out a large piece. “Not much flavor,” he continued; “but if you
think of a nice bit of toasted cheese or a delicate piece of pork rind
while it’s going down, it isn’t so bad.”

Soon nothing remained of the gay little collar that had been the
barn-cat’s pride, but the plate on which to engrave the name and the
padlock that used to tinkle so musically; but after the leather was
eaten up, Graywhisker became desperate indeed!

“If I could get hold of one of those tiger-kittens, wouldn’t it be a
treat?” he exclaimed, with a horrible grimace. “I _will_ venture out,
cost what it may. I don’t know as it would be any worse to be caught
by the cats than to die here slowly by inches. Oh, if I could only get
hold of one of those young rats or Mrs. Silverskin! I’d make them
bring me something to eat,--they are so much lighter than I am they can
slip along more easily.”

The barn-cat sat behind a post in the barn, where she could hear and
see without being seen, and the house-cat was watching a hole outside
with great perseverance.

“He can’t come out without one of us seeing him,” said the barn-cat to
herself; “I am sure of that. One thing is certain; he can’t stand it
much longer. He _must_ venture out soon for food, and then--”

Yes, she was right; he was coming out at last,--that was his long
gray nose looking out of his hole, and those his small sharp eyes.
Hardly daring to breathe, the barn-cat watched every motion. He looked
anxiously around in every direction, and then stole softly along. The
barn-cat did not stir until he was directly opposite the post where
she was concealed, and then gave a sudden spring, and her sharp claws
were fastened in his back, and the old thief and plotter was a prisoner!

[Illustration: Posy takes a peanut from Mrs. Polly’s cage.--_Page
239._]




CHAPTER XX.


“COME to the barn, the three of yees, till ye see the big rat the
barn-cat is after catching,” said Michael to the children the next
morning; and off they started, in such a hurry that poor little Posy
tripped over a stone and scraped the skin off her chubby little hands.

“Be a brave girl and don’t cry,” said Tom encouragingly, looking at
Posy’s face, that was distorted from the effort she made to keep from
crying.

“No,” said Posy, swallowing very hard and winking back the tears; “I
don’t cry at trifles, do I, Tom? Some girls would cry, wouldn’t they,
Tom? The tears might come into my eyes just a little bit, you know,
but I wouldn’t cry;” and two great tears rolled down Posy’s cheeks as
she spoke.

Nancy and Tom wiped the little hands very tenderly, and Tom’s praise
of her fortitude made the smarting much easier to bear; and in a few
minutes the three children were on their way to the barn again.

On the barn-floor lay a large rat, gray around the nose from age, and
nearly as large as the barn-cat herself, who sat near by.

“He’s an old fellow,” said Michael; “ye can see that by the gray beard
of him.”

“Look at his long yellow teeth,” said Tom, stooping to examine the rat
more closely, “and one of them is broken off. I guess ’twas done in a
fight, don’t you, Michael?”

“It’s as like as not,” answered Michael.

“How pleased the cats seem to be!” said Posy, looking from the
barn-cat, who watched the dead rat with so much satisfaction, to
the gray kitten, who looked on from behind her, and the house-cat,
who appeared at the door and looked in with great interest. The
tiger-kittens came too, and were so curious they couldn’t see all
they wanted to without going up to the rat and smelling around him,
till their mother gave a little “meaw” and drove them back. Then the
house-kittens came too, and peeped around the corner.

“I’m glad he’s out of the way, even if I didn’t catch him myself,” said
the house-cat.

The barn-cat was of too generous a disposition to boast of her victory.
“It doesn’t make any difference who caught him, now that he _is_
caught. What I want to see next is, these boards ripped up and the old
fellow’s nest examined; for I am certain my collar and Posy’s necklace
will be found there.”

“I wonder they don’t think of it,” said the house-cat; “but human
beings are so stupid I declare I’ve no patience with them.”

“The cats mew just as if they were talking it over,” said Tom.

“I shouldn’t wonder if they were,” said Posy; “I wish we knew what they
were saying.”

“I wish you did,” said the house-cat, “but that would be expecting too
much of you.”

The sparrow, too, had heard the news, and perched on the window to get
a look at the notorious Graywhisker who had caused so much mischief.

“I should have been in a pretty fix if that old fellow had come home
and found me in his house that time,” he said to himself; “one thing
is certain, I shouldn’t be sitting here now if he had. Hallo, my dear!
you came to get a sight of the old villain, did you?” he said to the
bright-eyed sparrow who lit beside him.

“I do believe those sparrows have come to see the rat too,” said Nancy.

Major, also, had turned around in his box-stall and faced the little
group assembled around the dead rat, and appeared to take great
interest in the event.

“Now, the only thing left to do is to tear up those boards and bring
the old fellow’s nest to light,” neighed Major.

“I guess Major is saying he’s glad the old rat won’t be able to steal
any more of his oats, don’t you, Tom?” said Posy, going up to the
gentle horse and stroking his soft nose.

“It’s more likely he’s after asking yees for the apples ye have in the
hands of yees,” answered Michael.

Major gave him as scornful a look as his mild eyes were capable of
giving, and then rubbed his nose affectionately against the little
hand that stroked him, in order to show his appreciation of the
sympathy she had with his feelings.

“Papa,” cried Tom and Posy together, as Mr. Winton came out of the
house, “do come and see this awful big rat the barn-cat caught last
night.”

“He was an old stager, and no mistake,” said Papa, looking at him. “I
want you, Michael, to take up these boards and destroy all the old
nests. I don’t doubt there are a good many of them.”

The barn-cat was so delighted that she completely forgot her dignity,
and catching sight of the tiger-kittens and house-kittens at play in
the yard, raced up to them and chased them around till they thought she
had suddenly lost her wits.

“Well, I declare,” said the house-cat, who was too well bred to forget
_her_ dignity in such a manner, “I thought you had a fit.”

“It did me good,” said the barn-cat; “I had to do something or I should
have exploded with joy.”

That afternoon, Michael, armed with a crowbar and hammer, went out to
the barn, followed by the children, who seated themselves comfortably
on the oat-box, where they could obtain a good view of Michael as he
tore up the boards of the floor.

Placing the crowbar under one of the planks, he gradually pried it up
and laid it on one side. The children peeped curiously in, but to their
great disappointment nothing was to be seen.

“It’s here where they’ve been,” said Michael; “I see the tracks of ’em.”

Then another plank was pried up and laid aside, and Michael looked down
and carefully examined the ground. “It’s here where the old villain
lived, I’ll be bound,” he exclaimed.

Down jumped the children from the oat-box and stood beside Michael.

“There’s his nest,” cried Tom excitedly,--“that bunch of rags and twine
in the corner.”

“It’s right ye are,” replied Michael.

“What’s that yellow thing there under that rag?” asked Tom.

Michael stooped and picked up the object that had attracted Tom’s
attention.

“My amber necklace,” shrieked Posy joyfully. “Oh, I’m so glad! Now they
won’t say you took it any more, Nancy;” and snatching the necklace from
Michael’s hand, she darted out of the barn, calling “Mamma” so loudly
that Mrs. Winton was at the door almost as soon as Posy was.

“My amber necklace,” cried Posy, waving it frantically over her head.
“It was in the old rat’s nest. Come and see where he lived.”

Mrs. Winton followed Posy to the barn, and looked into what had once
been Graywhisker’s home.

“It was right there, under that old rag,” cried Tom; “I saw it first.”

“What is that little thing shining there?” asked Mrs. Winton, pointing
to a bright spot.

Michael picked it up and handed it to her.

“Why, it must be the padlock to the barn-cat’s collar!” exclaimed Mrs.
Winton. “What a thief the old fellow was! I know now where the sugar
and raisins must have gone. Tell Hannah to come here a minute, Tom.”

Tom was off like a shot and soon returned, bringing Hannah, who looked
greatly astonished at the unusual message.

“Hannah,” said Mrs. Winton, holding up the amber necklace, “Posy’s
necklace has been found in this old rat-hole, and also what is left of
the barn-cat’s collar. You see your suspicions were unfounded. The
thief who has caused so much mischief is now dead, and I think you will
find that your stores in the loft will not disappear as fast as they
used to.”

Hannah was silent, and her face flushed.

“You do believe, _now_, that Nancy isn’t a thief, don’t you, Hannah?”
said Posy earnestly.

“Yes,” said Hannah slowly, for it cost her a great effort to
acknowledge she had made a mistake; “I see I was mistaken, and I am
sorry. I can’t say no more than that, as I know.”

“Hannah,” said Posy, with her sweetest smile, “I _don’t_ think you are
a mean girl, and I _will_ help you cook whenever you want me to.”

“Then I’m all right,” answered Hannah cheerfully.

It would be hard to tell how happy Nancy was at the favorable turn
affairs had taken; and if such a thing were possible, the animals, who
had been the means of bringing it to pass, were even happier than she
was. Mrs. Polly was so excited that for several days she talked the
family almost to death, and the canary sang till it seemed as if his
little throat would burst.

The sparrow settled down into quite a model husband and father, and
very seldom relapsed into his old habits. He and the little bright-eyed
sparrow continued to be very fond of each other, and brought up many
broods of young sparrows,--some of them lively young fellows like their
father and as fond of keeping late hours as he used to be, and others
as bright-eyed and domestic as the bright-eyed sparrow herself.

The barn-cat and the house-cat continued to disagree in their ideas of
education, but their kittens associated together with great amiability
and did not share the jealousies of their mothers.

Little Nancy never left the kind friends who had befriended her, and
was so devoted to Posy and made her so happy that a new nurse never
appeared, and the children became more attached to her every day, if
such a thing were possible.

[Illustration: The Sparrow’s House.]




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Mrs. Wesselhoeft’s Stories.

[Illustration: “YOU DEAR OLD FROWZLE,” CRIED MARGETTA, SITTING UP IN
BED, “HOW GLAD I AM TO SEE YOU!”]

_Frowzle the Runaway._

A fable for Children. By LILY F. WESSELHOEFT, author of “Sparrow,
the Tramp,” “Flipwing, the Spy,” etc. With illustrations by Jessie
McDermott. Square 12mo. Cloth. Price, $1.25.

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OLD ROUGH THE MISER.


By LILY F. WESSELHOEFT, author of “Sparrow the Tramp,” “Flipwing
the Spy,” “The Winds, the Woods, and the Wanderer.” With twenty-one
illustrations by J. F. Goodridge. Square 16mo, cloth, $1.25.

[Illustration: OLD ROUGH THE MISER.]

Mrs. Wesselhoeft’s “Fable Stories” are proving themselves more and more
acceptable to the children. “Old Rough” is a decided acquisition to the
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_MRS. WESSELHOEFT’S STORIES._

[Illustration: In the Woods]

_THE WINDS, THE WOODS, AND THE WANDERER._

A Fable for Children. By LILY F. WESSELHOEFT, author of “Sparrow, the
Tramp,” and “Flipwing, the Spy.” With illustrations. 16mo, cloth.
Price, $1.25.

  LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY, Boston.




FLIPWING, THE SPY.

A Story for Children.

BY LILY F. WESSELHOEFT,

_Author of “Sparrow, the Tramp,” “The Winds, the Woods, and the
Wanderer,” etc._

[Illustration: Boy in the Window]

The story represents the action of certain animals, the characters of
depicted in accordance with their natures and the exigencies of the
story. The object is to cultivate the love of animal nature, which
most children feel, and especially for such creatures as bats, toads
and others, which children are often improperly taught to regard with
disgust. The human characters introduced talk and act naturally, and
this book will be found very entertaining to young people.

  _16mo. Cloth. Price, $1.25._

  LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY, Boston.




THE LITTLE LADY OF THE HORSE.

[Illustration: A Girl and Her Horse]

BY EVELYN RAYMOND. With 21 Illustrations by FRANK T. MERRILL. Small
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JOLLY GOOD STORIES.

BY

MARY P. WELLS SMITH.


=Jolly Good Times To-Day.= With illustrations by JESSIE McDERMOTT.
16mo. Cloth. Price, $1.25.

  A sensible book, and it is sensible because it is merry and
  natural.--_New York Times._

  A complete description of the happy every-day life of American
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  Natural, every-day children.--_Churchman._

  One of the jolliest, most natural, and readable books we have read for
  many a day.--_Boston Times._

  A most charming book for children, whose scene is laid in our very
  midst, is Mrs. Mary P. Wells Smith’s “Jolly Good Times To-Day.” The
  writer, Mrs. Fayette Smith, of Avondale, has been very successful in
  her books for young people but this is the first instance where she
  has drawn upon her own beautiful neighborhood for materials. Apart
  from the interest felt in a description of people in our midst, the
  book is charming in its fresh, simple presentation of child-life. Mrs.
  Smith has the power of entering directly into the personality of her
  characters, and, as a result, they are real people. The book is full
  of local references that will interest Cincinnatians, and this fact,
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  The book is rightly named, and is the fifth in a series of volumes
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  guiding; where liberal instincts and thoughtful living create an
  atmosphere of growth and of personal privilege, wherein young lives
  may unconsciously expand toward a noble future.--_Unity._

  “Jolly Good Times To-Day,” by Mary P. Wells Smith, is a very
  pretty and natural story of child-life. The author evidently
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  griefs. She knows, too, how to entertain them in a bright, sensible
  way.--_Christian Intelligencer._

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VOYAGE OF THE LIBERDADE.

BY CAPTAIN JOSHUA SLOCUM.

_Illustrated. 4to, Cloth. Price, $1.00._


[Illustration: The Liberdade Under Sail]

The “Voyage of the Liberdade” reads like a romance, but is,
nevertheless, the faithful account of a marvellous experience in the
career of that indomitable Yankee tar--Capt. Joshua Slocum. How the
wonderful little boat, containing the author and his family, made a
journey of 5,000 miles in the face of perils calculated to terrify many
of the hardiest is told without any attempt at rhetorical garnish, yet
with a clearness that gives it a permanent literary value.

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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

On page 201, diging has been changed to digging.

On page 209, look-out has been changed to lookout.

On page 225, puting has been changed to putting.

The name of the old rat was typeset as Gray Whisker, Gray-whisker and
Graywhisker; these names have been regularized to Graywhisker across
this ebook.

All other spelling, hyphenation and dialect have been retained as
typeset.

Some illustrations in this text version of the ebook have been added by
the transcriber, and are placed in the public domain.