Part 25 (1/2)

The last burial took place while Jett was shut up. They dared not put up the monument, for they knew she would discover the grave by that. She hunted for a week, but she never found that bird again.

All the neighbors looked upon her as a mysterious element that had come into their midst. They believed in the witches having unlimited power over black cats, and never dared interfere with her; indeed, her good will they were very glad to gain.

Jett was devoted to Hope. She never killed a rat without bringing it with a purr of satisfaction, and was not satisfied till her little mistress had noticed her, and said, ”What a good kitty to catch the naughty rats.”

There was one place the children called the ”cats' paradise.” It was down in the corner of Jack's garden. Here catmint grew in rank profusion. The place was neglected, but nature had rioted there, and it was all abloom with wild flowers and weeds.

Here Jett held her afternoon teas and musicales, and she would frolic with her friends in the sweet-smelling gra.s.s. Her high soprano would mingle with the contralto and other nondescript parts till they produced a ”pa.s.sion music” so terrible in its results that it required all Jack's strength to separate them.

Why these musicales always ended in a free fight, Hope wondered. Jack suggested that the catmint intoxicated them, for they were usually captured with their mouths and paws full of it, and as much on their fur coats as they could hold. But this state of happiness was not quite as satisfactory to others as it was to the cats and the children.

Jack announced one day that _she_ had been disturbed by the musicales, and the catmint period was drawing to an end. Jack said:--

”She won't outwit me. Aunt Martha will let me plant some over behind your large barn, in that field, and we will dry all we can. Jett shall have her winter supply, and I will treat every cat in the neighborhood.”

Jack worked with a will, and before the man Mrs. Thornton had hired to remove and destroy the catmint bed had arrived, it was nearly all transplanted or cut off to dry. They did enjoy that work.

Hope was seated in a wheel chair her father had bought for her, and Jack delighted in wheeling. She superintended all the work.

Aunt Martha allowed the man of all work to plant all that Jack brought him, though she did not think it best for him to take the catmint from Jack's garden.

Jett and Bimbo were very much interested. Bimbo eyed them in solemn silence for a while, then he yelled, ”Go ahead! Hurry up! hurry up!

She'll get you!” till it did seem as if that clever bird knew everything.

Jett's help was rather doubtful, though her interest was not. She followed Jack back and forth, and at every fresh root he would take up she would turn a somersault in the hole, scratching the earth with all her might; then she would rush back--a picture of yellow earth, black fur, and catmint.

These were happy days, too soon followed by sorrowful ones. As summer waned, and autumn advanced, the first frost cast a blight on the little life so fondly cared for by her friends.

Jack's sorrow, when he was made to realize her danger, was pathetic. He was now constantly with his little playfellow when she was able to see him. It was a picture to see her propped up in bed, Jack sitting by the side, in a little rocker, Joanna in her arms, or if too feeble to hold her, lying by her side, while Jett was curled up at her feet.

Poor, sorrowful Aunt Martha hovered around her darling, ready to attend to her slightest wish. Jett was devoted to her. In this case can be seen what devoted creatures cats and dogs can be if they are made friends of.

They seem to realize the approach of that dread messenger, and to be ”faithful unto death.”

Jett only left the sick child long enough to take a const.i.tutional and her meals. Then she would go back and mew piteously, if the door was closed, to get in to her little mistress. If Hope was asleep, she would jump up on the bed, stand and look at her a little while, perhaps lick her hands, and then lie down where she could watch every movement. If Joanna had fallen on the floor, she would pick her up with her teeth, give her a real shake, as if to say, ”What did you fall down for?” and then, jumping up on the bed, deposit her in Hope's arms or by her side.

Never was there a case of greater devotion. She was always pleased to see Jack. She would lick his face and sit in his arms, but on the least movement of her little mistress back she would go and watch her with the deepest affection.

The end came very suddenly. Just at the close of a lovely October day sweet little Hope Farley fell asleep. She had seemed to know that the end was near. She had spoken of her death to her Aunt Martha, saying, ”I am so tired, but I do not want to leave you and my dear ones.”

She had made her auntie promise that Joanna should be dressed just as they dressed her, and be buried in her arms, saying, ”I shall not be so lonesome with my dear dolly, and I know Jack and Jett will come and see me often.”

So Joanna had a white cambric embroidered dress just like her little mistress's, that Aunt Martha made (with tears falling on her work), and she was laid in her little mistress's arms. Aunt Martha covered her with flowers, and sheltered her under the sleeve of her little mistress's dress as well as she could, knowing how much would be said about her indulging such a queer fancy of the dear child. As Jack said to her, ”I do feel glad Joanna is with her. It seems so hard to put her away alone;” and Aunt Martha agreed with him.

They had the greatest trouble with Jett, to keep her out of the room.

Every time the door was open she would hide under the bed. She had taken Joanna twice out to the seat in the garden, where she had so often seen her in Hope's arms, and Aunt Martha had to shut her out doors while she dressed Joanna.

Hope looked lovely, with beautiful flowers around her, and leaves from the plants she had loved. Her father was dazed at her loss, but Aunt Martha and Jack were the real mourners.