CHAPTER THREE.
OLD SALLY'S ELIZA.
The time soon came when Madam was allowed to bring her kittens into theplay-room, where they lived in a basket near the French window, throughwhich she could go in and out at her pleasure.
Dennis and Maisie were now able to make their close acquaintance, and toobserve that they were not at all alike either in appearance orcharacter. The black one continued to be the finest of the three.There could be no question that his coat was sleeker, his tail morebushy, his whole shape more substantial, and even at this early age heshowed signs of a bold and daring disposition.
When his mother had disposed herself for a comfortable nap, with hereyes shut and her paws tucked in, he would suddenly dart from someambush, his eyes gleaming with mischief and leap upon her back. Soundlycuffed for this, he would meekly retreat until Madam had dropped offagain, when he would come dancing up sideways, on the tips of his toes,with his back hunched, and every hair bristling, and tweak her by thetail. After these pranks had been repeated many times, the old catwould rise and wrestle with him, rolling over and over on the ground,kicking and biting, until he was subdued for a little while. But he wasnever good for long, and gave her more trouble than the other two puttogether.
The white kitten was of a very different nature. It was decidedly primin its ways, and very particular about its appearance, so that itlearned sooner than the others to wash its face, and attend to itstoilet. While the black kitten struggled violently when he was washed,and had to be held firmly down all the while, the white one seemed toenjoy licking its fur with its own rough little tongue, and to be quitevexed if it found a dirty spot on its coat. "It's a good thing it's soparticular," said Maisie, "because it would look so very bad if itwasn't quite clean." It had rather a meaningless face, a long thinnose, and mincing, dainty ways of walking and taking its food.Secretly, Maisie thought it rather like Philippa, for its temper wassomewhat peevish, and it often mewed in a dissatisfied manner fornothing at all; but she kept this fancy to herself, for she knew thatDennis would only call her silly if she mentioned it.
As for the grey kitten, it was the smallest and weakest of the three,the most easily imposed upon, and the most amiable. When the saucer ofmilk was put down, the others would thrust their heads greedily into it,and push the grey kitten aside, so that it could scarcely get any.Maisie was obliged to keep a close watch at such times, to see that ithad its share, and to correct the conduct of the other two. It was thesame thing in their gambols with their mother, or with a cork at the endof a string. The grey kitten seemed to be considered as a mere sportand joke for the other two, who tossed and tumbled it about as if itwere nothing: even Madam did not take its part, and often boxed its earsfor nothing but awkwardness.
All this, however, did not sour its temper in the least, and after theworst slight or roughest usage it was quite ready to purr and bepleased. Maisie thought this very nice of it, and she was sure it wasanxious to do well, if it only knew how. It would allow her, with veryfew struggles, to dress it in a doll's nightgown and cap, and put it tosleep in a cradle; which neither of the others would submit to for amoment. By degrees she became very fond of it, and the more she tookits part and defended it from ill-treatment, the more her affectionincreased. It was therefore distressing to remember, as the days wenton, that though the white kitten had a home to look forward to, therewas yet no such prospect for the grey one.
"It's getting dreadfully near the time," she said one morning to Dennis,who was trying to teach the black kitten to jump through his hands;"only ten days more, and we haven't got a good home for the grey kittenyet."
"It's such a common, mean thing," said Dennis, casting a scornful glanceat it. "No one could want to have it."
"It's very affectionate, though," said Maisie, "and it purrs more thanany of them. I believe it might grow pretty when it's older."
"Not it," said Dennis. "Why, there are lots of cats like it in thevillage now. Just long, lean, striped things. I don't believe you'dknow it apart from them when it's grown up.--Oh, look, Maisie, look! Hejumped, he really did."
Maisie looked, but the black kitten turned sulky, and refused to doanything but back away from Dennis's hands with its ears flattened.
"It's quite in a temper," she said. "Now the grey kitten _always_ triesto do what you tell it."
"Only it's so stupid that it never knows what you want it to do," saidDennis, as he gave up his efforts and let the kitten scamper back to itsmother.
"Well, at any rate," said Maisie, returning to her subject, "we've gotto find it a home, and we haven't asked every one yet. Who is thereleft? Let me see. There's the vicarage, and Dr Price, and, oh Dennis,perhaps old Sally would like it!"
Dennis shrugged his shoulders, but he was quite ready to agree that oldSally should be asked, because he was always glad of any excuse to gonear the Manor Farm, which he thought the nicest place in the village orout of it. It was not only pretty and interesting in itself with itssubstantial grey stone outbuildings, and pigeonry and rick-yard, but Mrand Mrs Andrew Solace lived there, and they were, the children thought,such very agreeable people. There had always been a Solace at the ManorFarm within the memory of old Sally, who was very old indeed, but theyfelt sure none of them could have been so pleasant as the present one."Young Master Andrew," old Sally called him, though he was a stout,middle-aged man with grizzled hair; but she gave him this name becauseshe had worked for his father and grandfather, and could "mind" him whenhe was a little boy of Dennis's age. For the same reason, she nevercould bring herself to think him equal to the management of such a verylarge farm, "'undreds of acres," as she said. It was a greatundertaking for "young Master Andrew," and though every one round knewthat there were few better farmers, old Sally always shook her head overit.
Manor Farm was in every respect just the opposite of the "Green Farm,"where the Broadbents lived. There was nothing smart or trim or newabout it, and the house and farm-buildings were comfortably mixed uptogether, so that the farmer seemed to live in the midst of his barnsand beasts. It was a very old house, with a square flagged hall and abroad oak staircase. There were beams showing across the low ceilings,and wide window-seats, which were always full of all sorts of thingsflung there "to be handy." Some of the rooms were panelled, and all thefurniture in them was old-fashioned and dark with age. Dogs and catswalked in and out at their pleasure, and though Mrs Solace sometimeschased them all out for a few minutes, they soon returned again throughwindows and doors, and made themselves quite at home. Mrs Solace wastoo busy to trouble herself much about them, and also too good-natured,so that the animals knew they could do pretty well as they liked.
It was this complete freedom that made the Manor Farm so delightful toDennis and Maisie, who ran in and out very much as the cats and dogsdid, and always found something to interest and amuse them. If MrsSolace were too much occupied in dairy, laundry, or store-room to givethem her attention, they had only to go into the farm-yard to besurrounded by friends and acquaintances. Some of these, it is true,disappeared from time to time, but you had hardly missed them beforethere was something new to take their place. The great browncart-horses, at any rate, were always to be found after their work, andalways ready to bow their huge heads and take apples or sugar gentlywith their soft lips. And in summer it was pleasant to be there just atmilking time, and watch the cows saunter slowly home across the fields,to stand in a long patient row in the shed, to be milked.
Indeed it would be hard to say what time was not pleasant at the farm,for in such a large family of creatures there was always somethinghappening of the very deepest interest to the children. In the springthey were quite as anxious and eager about successful broods of earlyducklings, or the rearing of the turkeys as Mrs Solace was herself, andshe was secure of their heartfelt sympathy when the fox made away withher poultry.
For unlike Mrs Broadbent, Mrs Solace not only knew all about suchmatters, but liked nothing so well as to talk of
them.
"When I'm a man," Dennis would say, "I mean to be a farmer."
"So do I," Maisie would answer.
"You couldn't be," Dennis would argue. "How could you go rook-shooting?You know you scream when a gun goes off; and besides, you're afraid ofthe turkey-cock."
"Well, then," Maisie would conclude, deeply conscious that both thesefacts were true, "I'll be a farmer's wife, and rear turkeys; that'squite as hard as shooting rooks, and much usefuller."
"That it is, dearie," Mrs Solace would agree, with her comfortablelaugh. "Puley pingling things they are, and want as much care aschildren."
But apart from the animals, there was to Dennis one corner at the ManorFarm which had special attractions, and that was where the wheelwrightworked. It was a long narrow barn fitted up as a carpenter's shop, witha bench and a lathe and all manner of tools: full of shavings andsawdust, planks of wood and half-finished farm implements. Here thewheelwright stood and worked all day. He made and mended carts,wheelbarrows, ladders, hay-rakes, and all sorts of things used in thefarm, and had always as much as he could do. Dennis liked nothingbetter than a little quiet time with Tuvvy, as he was called, and thoughhe did not talk much, he eyed all his movements with such earnestattention that it may be supposed he learned something of carpentering.
Tuvvy's movements were nimble and neat, for he was a clever workman, andknew what he was about: now and then he would cast a swift glance roundat Dennis out of his bright black eyes, but he never paused in his workto talk, and there was seldom any sound in the barn but that of the sawand hammer, or the whirring of the lathe. His skin was so very dark,and his hair so black and long, that people called him a gypsy, andDennis knew that he was a little wild sometimes, because old Sally shookher head when she mentioned him.
That meant that Tuvvy was not always quite sober, which was a greatpity, because he was so clever, that he could earn a great deal if hekept steady. In the barn, however, he was as steady and hard-working asa man could be, and what his conduct was out of it, did not at allaffect Dennis's attachment and admiration. Maisie always knew, if shemissed her brother during one of their visits to the farm, that sheshould find him in the barn staring at Tuvvy at his work; and he haddone this so much, that he began to feel as though he had helped to makeMr Solace's carts and barrows.
All this made him quite ready to agree with Maisie's suggestion, foralthough he was not very anxious about the grey kitten's welfare, hethought there might be a chance of slipping round to see how Tuvvy wasgetting on.
"Where shall we go first?" said Maisie, as they started on theirexpedition, with Peter, the little rough dog, barking round them. "Thevicarage comes first, and then Dr Price, and then old Sally."
"All right," said Dennis; "that's the best last, and the worst first."
The vicarage stood on a little hill close to the church, looking down onthe village street.
"I don't much think Miss Hurst will want it," said Maisie, as theyturned up the steep lane; "because, you see, she's got such a very petcat. Else that would be a very good home."
"She might like it for a kitchen cat," said Dennis, "to catch rats andmice."
"_Ye-es_," said Maisie. She did not much like the idea of the greykitten in such a position. Still, Miss Hurst was so very kind andgentle, that it was likely even the kitchen cat would be well treated inher house.
The vicarage reached, however, and the old question put, it turned outthat Maisie had been right. Miss Hurst, who was a meek-faced littlelady with very smooth hair and a kind smile, was afraid she could nothave two cats. It might upset Mopsy. And Mopsy was such an old friend,that it would not be fair to make him unhappy for the sake of a new one.She was afraid she must say no. So the grey kitten was again refused,and when the children set out on their farther journey, Maisie was quitein low spirits. Nobody wanted the grey kitten.
"We've got two chances left," said Dennis, trying to console her. "Andif _I_ were the kitten, I'd much rather live with Dr Price than at thevicarage."
"But you're not a kitten--you're a boy," said Maisie despairingly, "andthat makes a great deal of difference."
"Dr Price is splendid, _I_ think," continued Dennis. "Just see how hecan ride, and how he cures people, and how kind he is to them abouttheir bills."
"Why do you suppose Aunt Katharine has Dr Smith over from Upwell to seeus when we're ill," asked Maisie, "when Dr Price is quite close, and soclever?"
"Well," said Dennis gravely, "you mustn't say anything, but I_believe_--that is, I've heard one or two of them say in the village--that he sometimes--is--like Tuvvy, you know."
"Oh!" said Maisie, with her eyes very wide open.
"And that, you see," went on Dennis instructively, "is very bad for adoctor, because he may mix up the wrong things together and kill people.But for all that, they say they'd rather have him, even when he's alittle `nervous,' than any one else, because he's so clever and so kind.Why, he sat up all night with Widow Hutchins's son, who had sergestionof the lungs, and then he wouldn't take a penny because she's so poor."
"What a pity he's ever like Tuvvy," said Maisie.
"And then, you see," continued Dennis, who loved to repeat the gossip hepicked up in the village, "he's so dreadfully fond of horses andhunting, that whenever there's a meet near, he _can't help_ going, andif he goes, he _has_ to follow, and then he can't leave off. Sosometimes, when there is an accident, or anything, and he's wanted herevery badly, he's quite the other side of the county!"
Maisie nodded her head gravely as she heard of those little weaknesses;and just then, reaching the foot of the hill which led down from thevicarage, they came into the village again, and there was Dr Pricehimself standing at his gate, facing them.
He was a broad, strongly-built man of about five-and-forty, with aclean-shaven square face, and very fair hair and eyebrows. These lookedcuriously light on his red-brown skin, which was of an even tint allover, as though used to encounter wind and rough weather. He was soconstantly on horseback, that it seemed strange to see him standing onhis own legs, and more so to see him walk, which, indeed, he did with anodd movement of the knees, as though it were some difficult exercise.He wore riding-boots and breeches, and had a short pipe in his mouth.At his heels were his two white terriers, Snip and Snap.
As Maisie's eye fell on the dogs, she stopped short, and caught hold ofDennis by the arm.
"Oh!" she exclaimed; "I forgot."
"Forgot what?" he answered, with a pull forward. "Don't be stupid.Come on."
"Why, Snip and Snap," said Maisie eagerly, still holding back. "Itwouldn't be a good home. They'd chase it. Don't let's speak to DrPrice about it. It wouldn't be any use."
"We must speak to him now," said Dennis, going steadily on, and draggingMaisie with him. "Perhaps he'll know of some one, if he can't have ithimself. _You_ ask," he added hurriedly, as they came close to thedoctor.
Dr Price took off his hat, and smiled down very kindly at Maisie, as sheput her question. She spoke hesitatingly, for the sight of Snip andSnap had reminded her of their habits. On most days their swift whiteforms were to be seen scouring over the country in search of rabbits, orother small defenceless creatures. Dr Price on horseback, and histerriers on foot, were well known for many miles round Fieldside, andMaisie could not help thinking them most unsuitable companions for thegrey kitten.
This seemed to strike the doctor himself.
"Well now, that's very kind of you, Miss Maisie," he said, lookingthoughtfully at the bowl of his pipe; "but the fact is I'm not much of ahand at cats myself. And then--there are the dogs, you see--"
"Would they chase it?" asked Maisie, glancing at them.
"Why, they're thoroughbred, you know," said the doctor apologetically.
"What a pity!" said Maisie, who thought it must be some very badquality.
"Well," said the doctor, with a short laugh, "I like them all the betterfor it myself; but I'm afraid the kitten wouldn't stand much chance, andthat's a fact."
"Oh, I wouldn't let it come here for _anything_," said Maisie with ashiver. "Why do you keep such cruel dogs?"
"As to that, you know, Miss Maisie," said the doctor, "it isn't cruellerto hunt a cat than a fox."
"But that's cruel too," said Maisie, "very cruel indeed."
Here Dennis felt it time to interfere.
"Don't be stupid, Maisie," he said; "you're only a girl. You don'tunderstand. Of course, people must hunt."
So here was another failure, for not only was Dr Price's home out of thequestion, but he could not think of any one who wanted a kitten.Everybody had cats; they seemed to be all over the place. If it was apuppy now. He cast an admiring glance at Snip and Snap, who stood insprightly attitudes, one on each side of the little rough dog Peter,their eager bodies quivering, their short tails wagging, ready for thefirst signs of warfare. But Peter knew better. He was old and he waswise. He did not like Snip and Snap, but he was not going to beprovoked into a fight in which he was sure to be worsted. So he heldhimself stiffly upright, uttered a low growl of contempt, and took nofurther notice of them.
"And now," said Maisie, when they had said good-bye to Dr Price, andwere on their way again, with Peter trotting in front, "there's reallyonly one more chance left."
There were two ways to old Sally's cottage, and Maisie knew Dennis wouldbe sure to choose the one which led across the rick-yard of the ManorFarm; indeed, she liked this best herself except for one reason, andthat was the risk of meeting the turkey-cock. It was useless for Dennisto say, "He won't gobble if you're not frightened of him." She always_was_ frightened, and he always _did_ gobble, and turned purple withrage, and swelled out all his feathers, and shook a loose scarlet thingwhich hung down from his neck. They met him to-day, marching at thehead of his ladylike wives, who followed him delicately, picking theirway and lifting their feet high. Their small heads and quietly eleganttoilets made them look rather like Aunt Trevor, Maisie thought.
"Now, walk slowly," said Dennis, and she did try to control her fears;but as usual, the moment the turkey-cock began to gobble, she began torun, and did not stop until she was safe on the other side of the gate.From this refuge she watched Dennis, admiring him greatly as he cameslowly on, shaking his stick in the turkey-cock's face, and was quiteready to agree with him when he called her a coward.
"Only I can't help it," she added.
"But you ought to," was Dennis's reply. "It's silly, even for a girl,to be afraid of a turkey-cock."
Old Sally's thatched cottage was so near the farm-buildings that italmost looked like one of them, but a narrow lane really ran between,and it stood on its own little plot of ground. At its door there was animmense horse-chestnut, which she could "mind," she said, helping toplant when she was a girl. She had held it straight in the hole whileold Mr Solace, the grandfather of this young Master Andrew, had filledin the earth. She was most sorry to think she had done it now, for thisungrateful tree so shaded her window that it made her cottage dark, andbesides this, choked up her well, by dropping its great leaves into itin the autumn.
Old Sally could "mind" so many things on account of her age, that shewas a most amusing and instructive person to visit. She had worked forthe Solaces as child, girl, and woman, and now she was pensioned off,and allowed to live in her cottage rent-free with her one remainingunmarried daughter, Anne, of whom she always spoke as her "good child."Anne was over seventy years old, and weakly with bad health andrheumatism, so that there was nothing very youthful about her. Indeed,when they sat side by side, both in sunbonnets which they wore indoorsand out, it was difficult to say which was the elder of the two oldwomen.
Old Sally, in spite of a long life of hard work, was still straight andwiry, and her brown old face, wrinkled as a withered nut, was lively andshrewd. There was only one point in which Anne had the advantage, andthat was in hearing, for her mother was very deaf, and obliged to use atrumpet. This she was always shy of producing, and to-day she allowedAnne to scream into her ear what the children said for some time; but atlast, seeing a very earnest expression on Maisie's face, she took thetrumpet out with a bashful smile and presented the end to her.
"Do you know any one who wants a kitten?" shouted Maisie.
Old Sally laid down the trumpet and turned to Anne, who as usual sat ather elbow in her lilac sun-bonnet and coarse apron.
"Warn't our Eliza talking of cats last time she was over?" she asked.
Anne nodded.
"Who's Eliza?" inquired Dennis.
"Why, sure you know our Eliza, Master Dennis," said old Sally. "Her asmarried the tinsmith, and went to live in Upwell town. Eliza's myyoungest darter but two. Don't you mind her wedding?"
"Lor, mother!" said Anne, "Master Dennis and Miss Maisie warn't livingat Fieldside then. It's a good twelve years ago.--Mother forgets thingslike that," she added aside to the children, "though she's a wonderfulmemory for ancient things."
"Would it be a good home, do you think?" said Maisie to Dennis in a lowtone.
"Is your daughter Eliza a kind woman?" shouted Dennis down the trumpet.
Old Sally dropped her trumpet and raised both her withered hands onhigh.
"Kind! Master Dennis. Eliza's downright silly about dumb animals. Shealways was from a gal."
"We don't want her to be silly," said Dennis, "but we do want her to bekind, because we've promised Aunt Katharine to find a good home."
Both old Sally and Anne were full of assurances as to Eliza's kindnessand the comforts which would surround the grey kitten in her house.Certainly it would have to catch mice, but that, they declared, was apleasure to a cat, and could not be called hard work. So after a littleconsultation it was settled that the kitten should be brought to oldSally's, and that Eliza should take it back to Upwell the very next timeshe came over to see her mother. The grey kitten had a home at last.This arrangement made, Dennis got up briskly, with a business-like air.
"I'm going to see Tuvvy now," he said. "I'll come back for youpresently, Maisie;" and he was almost out of the door before he wasstopped by a call from Anne.
"You'll not find him to-day, Master Dennis," she said. "He's not atwork."
"Not at work!" repeated Dennis, turning round with a downcast face."Why isn't he at work? Is he ill?"
Old Sally had been screwing up her lips and shaking her head solemnlyever since Tuvvy's name had been mentioned. At Dennis's question herface looked full of dark meaning.
"Worse nor that," she said. "He's had a bout. He'll do it once toooften, and get sacked. He can't expect Master Andrew to put up withit."
"But he couldn't ever get such a good wheelwright as Tuvvy again, couldhe?" said Dennis eagerly. "Tuvvy can do so many things, and he's soclever and quick."
"Oh, he's _clever_ enough, and he's _quick_ enough, is Tuvvy," agreedold Sally: "'tain't that; but he can't keep steady--that's where it is.He'll go on right enough for a bit, and then he'll have a reg'larbreak-out. It's cruel hard on his wife and children, so it is."
"Why _does_ he do it?" said Dennis mournfully.
Old Sally gave a sort of low chuckle.
"Lor, Master Dennis, the men are made like that. They can't help it."
Dennis usually took all old Sally said for granted, considering that herknowledge of men and things must be very great, but he hesitated alittle at this sweeping remark.
"They're not _all_ like that," he said; "there's Mr Hurst, and MrSolace, and a whole lot more. Do you think Mr Solace will turn Tuvvyaway this time?"
But as to this, neither old Sally nor Anne could give any idea at all.Mr Solace was a kind man for certain, but then again he was a just mantoo, and a man of his word. Anne had heard him say with her own earsthat the next time Tuvvy broke out, he would get the sack. But therewas no telling.
Dennis left the cottage with a weight on his mind which nothing couldlift. One of his greatest pleasures would be gone if there were noTuvvy in the barn for the future. A new wheelwright would most likelybe a
complete stranger, and not the same thing at all. Why would he beso silly as to break out? Could nothing be done to stop him?
Maisie, too, was rather sober and silent on the way back, for though ahome for the grey kitten had now been found, she felt that she shouldmiss it very much, and could not bear the idea of parting with it. Ithad such coaxing ways, and was so weak and helpless, that it seemed toneed her more than the others, and to want her help and affection.
She went to pay a last visit to the kittens before she went to bed thatnight, and found them all curled up in a soft little heap in theirbasket. As usual, the grey kitten was lying underneath the others, whowere sprawling over it, quite regardless of its comfort.
Maisie lifted it out, held it up to her face, and kissed it gently.
"Dear little kitty," she whispered, "you've got a home at last. You'reto go and catch mice for old Sally's Eliza, and I do hope you'll behappy."
Black, White and Gray: A Story of Three Homes Page 3