Part 3 (2/2)
”What's come over it?” she said. ”Awhile ago it could hardly walk.”
”You have not seen a kitten of that breed before,” said Satan.
Ursula was not proposing to be friendly with the mocking stranger, and she gave him an ungentle look and retorted: ”Who asked you to come here and pester me, I'd like to know? And what do you know about what I've seen and what I haven't seen?”
”You haven't seen a kitten with the hair-spines on its tongue pointing to the front, have you?”
”No--nor you, either.”
”Well, examine this one and see.”
Ursula was become pretty spry, but the kitten was spryer, and she could not catch it, and had to give it up. Then Satan said:
”Give it a name, and maybe it will come.”
Ursula tried several names, but the kitten was not interested.
”Call it Agnes. Try that.”
The creature answered to the name and came. Ursula examined its tongue.
”Upon my word, it's true!” she said. ”I have not seen this kind of a cat before. Is it yours?”
”No.”
”Then how did you know its name so pat?”
”Because all cats of that breed are named Agnes; they will not answer to any other.”
Ursula was impressed. ”It is the most wonderful thing!” Then a shadow of trouble came into her face, for her superst.i.tions were aroused, and she reluctantly put the creature down, saying: ”I suppose I must let it go; I am not afraid--no, not exactly that, though the priest--well, I've heard people--indeed, many people... And, besides, it is quite well now and can take care of itself.” She sighed, and turned to go, murmuring: ”It is such a pretty one, too, and would be such company--and the house is so sad and lonesome these troubled days... Miss Marget so mournful and just a shadow, and the old master shut up in jail.”
”It seems a pity not to keep it,” said Satan.
Ursula turned quickly--just as if she were hoping some one would encourage her.
”Why?” she asked, wistfully.
”Because this breed brings luck.”
”Does it? Is it true? Young man, do you know it to be true? How does it bring luck?”
”Well, it brings money, anyway.”
Ursula looked disappointed. ”Money? A cat bring money? The idea! You could never sell it here; people do not buy cats here; one can't even give them away.” She turned to go.
”I don't mean sell it. I mean have an income from it. This kind is called the Lucky Cat. Its owner finds four silver groschen in his pocket every morning.”
I saw the indignation rising in the old woman's face. She was insulted.
This boy was making fun of her. That was her thought. She thrust her hands into her pockets and straightened up to give him a piece of her mind. Her temper was all up, and hot. Her mouth came open and let out three words of a bitter sentence,... then it fell silent, and the anger in her face turned to surprise or wonder or fear, or something, and she slowly brought out her hands from her pockets and opened them and held them so. In one was my piece of money, in the other lay four silver groschen. She gazed a little while, perhaps to see if the groschen would vanish away; then she said, fervently:
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