CHAPTER I.
My name is Toots. Why, I have not the slightest idea. But I suppose veryfew people--cats or otherwise--are consulted about their own names. Ifthey were, these would perhaps be, as a rule, more appropriate.
What qualities of mind or body my name was supposed to illustrate, Ihave not to this hour a notion. I distinctly remember the stage of mykittenhood, when I thought that Toots was the English for cream.
"Toots! Toots!" my young mistress used to say, in the most suggestivetones, creeping after me as I would creep after a mouse, with asaucerful of that delicious liquid in her hand.
"Toots is first-rate stuff," I used to think, and I purred accordingly,for I never was an ungrateful cat.
This was in the dining-room, and in the morning. Later in the day,"Toots" was served in the drawing-room. It was between these twoperiods, I remember, that one day I found myself in the larder. Why Iwent there, puzzled me at the time; for if there is anything I hate itis a chill, and there was a horrid draught through a window pierced withtiny holes, which seemed to let in a separate blast for every hair ofone's fur. I followed the cook, it is true; but I did not follow thecook as a rule--not, for instance, when she went out to the coal-hole inthe yard. I had slipped in under her dress. I was behind the potato-tubwhen she went out, shutting the door after her. For some mysteriousreason I felt on the tip-claw of expectation. My nose twitched withagreeable sensations. An inward voice seemed to murmur, _Toots_!Regardless of the draughts, I sprang on to the shelf close under thewindow. And there was such a dish of cream! The saucers in which one gotit at breakfast did not hold a twentieth part of what this brimming pancontained. As to the five o'clock china, in which visitors give you atepid teaspoonful, with bits of old tea-leaves in it--I grinned at thethought as I drew in tongueful after tongueful of the thick yellowcream.
At this moment I heard my young mistress's voice in the distantpassages.
"Toots, Toots!" said she.
"I've got plenty," purred I, lifting my head to speak, by a greateffort.
"Toots, Toots!" she miowed on, for she wasn't much quicker-witted thanthe rest of her race.
"No, thank you," thought I; "and if you want five o'clock toots foryourself, I advise you to come here for it." I thought this, but speak Ireally could not--I was too busy lapping.
It was delicious stuff! But when the dish was about three-parts empty, Ibegan to feel as if I had had a good deal, and to wish I had moreappetite for the rest. "It's a shame to leave it, though," I thought,"when a few more laps will empty the dish." For I come of an ancient andrough-tongued cat family, who always lick their platters clean. So I setto work again, though the draught was most annoying, and froze the creamto butter on my whiskers.
I was polishing the glazed earthenware with the family skill, when Ibecame conscious that the house was resounding to the cry of "Toots!"
"Toots, Toots!" squeaked the housemaid, in the servants' hall.
"Toots, Toots!" growled the elderly butler, in the pantry.
"Toots, Toots, cock-a-Toots!" yelled that intolerable creature, theMacaw.
"Toots, Toots!" snapped the cook.
"Miow," said I; for I had finished the cream, and could speak now,though I confess I did not feel equal to any great exertion.
The cook opened the door. She found me--she did not find the cream,which she had left in the dish ready for whipping.
Perhaps it was because she had no cream to whip, that she tried to whipme. Certainly, during the next half-hour, I had reason to be muchconfused as to the meaning of the word "Toots." In the soft voice of mymistress it had always seemed to me to mean cream; now it seemed to meankicks, blows, flapping dish-cloths, wash-leathers and dusters, pokers,carpet brooms, and every instrument of torture with which a poor catcould be chased from garret to cellar. I am pretty nimble, and though Inever felt less disposed for violent exercise, I flatter myself I ledthem a good dance before, by a sudden impulse of affectionatetrustfulness, I sprang straight into my mistress's arms for shelter.
"You must beat him, miss," gasped the cook, "or there'll never be nobearing him in the house. Every drop of that lovely cream gone, and halfthe sweets for the ball supper throwed completely out of calculation!"
"Naughty Toots, naughty Toots, naughty Toots!" cried the young lady,and with every "Toots" she gave me a slap; but as her paws had no clawsin them, I was more offended than hurt.
This was my first lesson in honesty, and it was also the beginning ofthat train of reasoning in my own mind, by which I came to understandthat when people called "Toots" they meant me. And as--to do themjustice--they generally called me with some kind intention, I made apoint of responding to my name.
Indeed, they were so kind to me, and my position was such a verycomfortable one, that when a lean tabby called one day for a charitablesubscription, and begged me to contribute a few spare partridge bones toa fund for the support of starving cats in the neighbourhood, who hadbeen deserted by families leaving town, I said that really such caseswere not much in my line. There is a great deal of impositionabout--perhaps the cats had stolen the cream, and hadn't left offstealing it when they were chased by the family. I doubted if familieswhere the cats deserved respect and consideration ever did leave town.One has so many calls, if one once begins to subscribe to things; and Iam particularly fond of partridge.
But when, a few months later, the very words which the lean tabby hadspoken passed between the butler and the cook in reference to our ownhousehold, and I learnt that "the family" were going "to leave town," Ifelt a pang of conscience, and wished I had subscribed the merrythought, or even the breast-bone--there was very little on it--to theDeserted Cats' Fund.
But it was my young mistress who told me (with regrets and caresses,which in the circumstances were mere mockery) that I was to be leftbehind.
I have a particularly placid temper, and can adapt myself prettycomfortably to the ups and downs of life; but this news made my tailstand on end.
"Poor dear Toots!" said my mistress, kissing my nose, and tickling megently under the ear, as if she were saying the prettiest thingspossible. "I am _so_ sorry! I don't know _what_ we are to do with you!But we are going abroad, and we _can't_ take you, you dear old thing!We've such heaps of luggage, and such lots of servants, and no end ofthings that _must_ go! But I _can't bear to think_ of you left behind!"
"No," said I indignantly; "that's just it, and the people at number ten,and number fourteen, and number twenty-five, couldn't bear to think whatwould become of their cats, so they went away and didn't think about it.They couldn't bear to see them die, so they didn't give them a dose ofquick poison, but left them to die of starvation, when they weren'tthere to see. You're a heartless, selfish race, you human beings, and Isuspect that Mrs. Tabby is not the only shabby-looking, true-heartedsoul, who has to pester people for subscriptions to patch up the drearyend of existence for deserted pets, when caressing days are over. Fuff!"
And I jumped straight out of her arms, and whisked through thedining-room window. For some time I strolled thoughtfully along the topof the area railings. I rather hoped I might see Mrs. Tabby. I wonderedhow her subscription list was getting on. I felt all the differencebetween a lady's interest in a Reduced Gentlewomen's BenevolentInstitution or a Poor Annuitants' Home, when she is well and wealthy,and the same lady's interest when some turn of Misfortune's wheel hasleft her "dependent on her own exertions." It seemed that I was to beleft dependent on my own exertions--and my thoughts turned naturally toMrs. Tabby and the Deserted Cats' Fund.
But not a sign of the good creature! At this moment a hansom cab rattledup, and a gentleman got out and rang our front-door bell. As he got outof the cab, I jumped down from the railings, and rubbed against hislegs--he had very long legs.
"Halloa, Toots! is that you?" said he in a kindly voice, which hadalways had attractions for me, and which in my present mood wasparticularly grateful. His hat was set well on the back of his head, andI could clearly see the friendly expression of h
is countenance. Suddenlyhe tilted it over his nose, which I have observed that he is apt to dowhen struck by a new idea. "Toots!" said he abruptly, "what are theygoing to do with you?"
Blessings on this kind of friend! say I; the friend who will encumberhimself with the responsibility of thinking what's to become of you,when you are down in the world. Those tender-hearted souls who can'tbear to think of your misfortunes are a much more numerous part of one'sacquaintance.
A ray of hope began to dawn upon me. Perhaps a new and an even moreluxurious home was to be offered for my acceptance. In what foolishpanic had I begun to identify myself with the needy classes of society?A cat of my stripes and style! Once more I thought of benevolentinstitutions from a patronizing point of view. But I would be a patron,and a generous one. The shock _had_ done so much! And the next time Mrs.Tabby called I would _pick out a lot of my best bones for the Fund_.
Meanwhile, I went back to the railings, and from these took a flyingleap, and perched myself on the gentleman's shoulder. I could hardlyhave managed it from the ground, he had such very long legs.
I think, by the bye, that I have mentioned this before. I do not wish torepeat myself, or to dwell on my grievance, though, if his legs had beenshorter, his riding-boots would not have been so long, and I might atthis moment know what became of--but I must not forestall my story.
I jumped on to the gentleman's shoulder. In doing so, I knocked his hatover one eye. But I have seen it so since then, and he made nocomplaint. The man-servant opened the door, and we went into the housetogether.
Brothers of Pity and Other Tales of Beasts and Men Page 11