Part 17 (2/2)

The work of cleaning me was something fearful. I was as patient as I could be, though I could not help jerking away a few times. Miss Milly said, ”You do not look like my lovely Daisy,” and it was many days before I looked like myself again.

That evening my mistress let me look at the photograph of our nice young friend. I thought it lovely and a very good likeness. I gave a little purr at it, but I suppose a gobble or a crow would have been more appropriate.

She is a very dear friend to my mistress, and I am very fond of her.

When she comes in, I always keep awake to hear her talk. She is very fascinating. I do not think she cares very much for cats. I suppose it is because she does not know much about them. One thing I do know: she would be kind to them, for when I am left alone with her, she smiles at me and says, ”Daisy, you are a nice cat,” just the same as if my mistress were here.

Some people make so much of me before my mistress, but behind her back say, ”Scat, you old cat!” There is no need for them to speak. I know them, and would not go near them on any account. Then I do wish I could speak and warn my mistress of their falseness.

One of these people called one day and brought her great boy with her.

He could hardly keep his hands off of me. When my mistress took his mother into the next room, to show her some work, he lingered behind, thinking, ”Now is my opportunity.”

He pulled my ear and yelled ”Sa.s.sage meat” in it. Whatever he meant by his ”sa.s.sage meat” I did not know, but I saw my opportunity and gave him a good dig with my claws and made his cheek bleed. He bellowed well, like a real calf, and his mother looked daggers at me, for I boldly stood my ground. I would not go to my retreat under the bed, for I was not to blame.

Miss Milly was very sorry, and helped his mother wash his cheek and got court-plaster for her. After he had been coaxed and comforted, he poured forth his wrongs, saying that he was sitting quietly, when I rushed upon him and without the least provocation clawed his face.

Miss Eleanor came forward then, saying, ”You are mistaken. I was in the alcove, and saw you pull Daisy's ear and yell 'sa.s.sage meat' in it, and he scratched you in self-defence.” The mother was very indignant. She said, ”I have always told Harold never to touch such spiteful creatures as cats.” No one answered her, and she soon left with her pretty boy, and she never came again.

Miss Eleanor said she thought, as Harold was to be a lawyer,--so his mother had told her,--he would never let truth stand in his way in gaining a case.

My ear did burn from the sharp nails he had pinched it with, and I was not sorry that I defended myself, and I made up my mind that when children came to the house, particularly if they were with their parents, I would keep out of their way.

Miss Milly came to the same conclusion. She said: ”Daisy shall not be subjected to a trial of this kind again; it spoils his temper and makes him rude, and then he is unhappy about it.”

And I was. I had reason to remember it, for my ear was swollen, and they were obliged to put salve on it to make it heal.

Some time after this we went into the country for a short time. While there I made the acquaintance of a very intelligent cat. His name was Pedro. He was very hard to get acquainted with at first, and I was just wild to know him, for he was very handsome and dignified.

I thought of every reason why he was so cool to me. At last I said to myself: ”It is my collar and padlock. He thinks I am proud.” So I worked and worked till I got the padlock up on my back, and then I licked down my fur to cover my collar. Then I walked out, and after a few turns in the garden I saw Pedro on the grounds. He belonged to a very wealthy man, and the house and grounds were quite lovely.

I walked to meet him very humbly. When I said, ”Good morning, Pedro,” he looked me all over, and instead of answering me, he said with a scoff, ”Oh, you are in disgrace, are you?”

”No indeed,” I answered; ”what makes you think so?”

”Because you are not in full dress, and I miss that trinket you are so proud of.”

This did provoke me, and I said, ”The 'trinket,' as you call my nice padlock, is on my back. I supposed it was that that made you so against me. All the cats are envious and jealous of that.”

”Envious! jealous!” he hissed. ”I guess I am not a mean fellow enough to be jealous of a trumpery bit of finery on a stuck-up cat.”

I had to swallow to keep down my temper. As I did want his friends.h.i.+p, I pa.s.sed over his insolence in silence.

As I turned to go home I said: ”I cannot understand why you dislike me; I have been anxious to be friends with you, and have wondered if my collar and padlock had made you think I put on airs. I tried to hide this gift of my dear mistress, though it seemed treachery to her, thinking perhaps you would then be pleased with me. Now, of course, I shall never try for your friends.h.i.+p again.”

He had been silent, but he moved about uneasily. Then he winked very fast, and at last said: ”Is that really so? Did you want to be friends with me? Why, I thought of all the blue-bloodedest, old-familiest, aristocratical creeters, you were the biggest. I thought you were a cat duke or a count, and them's the creeters I despise, for I am a real democrat.”

”So am I,” I joyfully said, too much delighted to notice Pedro's bad grammar. ”There is my paw on it, and I do hope we shall be good friends.

We ought to be _fast_ friends. As for the dukes and counts, I spell them without capitals. That is how I value them. The only likeness they have to us is that we have whiskers, with this difference: the barber makes theirs, while G.o.d made ours.”

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