MRS. CHINCHILLA.
THE TALE OF A CAT.
"See what joyous faces, what shining eyes, and what glad jubilee welcomethe story-teller, and what a blooming circle of glad children pressaround him!"--FROEBEL.
Mrs. Chinchilla was not a lovely lady, with a dress of soft gray clothand a great chinchilla muff and boa. Not at all. Mrs. Chinchilla wasa beautiful cat, with sleek fur like silver-gray satin, and a veryhandsome tail to match, quite long enough to brush the ground when shewalked. She didn't live in a house, but she had a very comfortable homein a fine drug-store, with one large bay-window almost to herself andher kittens. She had three pretty fat dumplings of kittens, all in softshades of gray like their mother. She didn't like any other color inkittens so well as a quiet ladylike gray. None of her children ever wereblack, or white, or yellow, but sometimes they had four snow-white sockson their gray paws. Mrs. Chinchilla didn't mind that, for white sockswere really a handsome finish to a gray kitten, though, of course, itwas a deal of trouble to keep them clean.
At the time my story begins the kits were all tiny catkins, whose eyeshad been open only a day or two, so Mrs. Chinchilla had to wash themevery morning herself. She had the most wonderful tongue! I'll tellyou what that tongue had in it: a hair-brush, a comb, a tooth-brush,a nail-brush, a sponge, a towel, and a cake of soap! And when Mrs.Chinchilla had finished those three little catkins, they were as freshand sweet, and shiny and clean, and kissable and huggable, as any babyjust out of a bath-tub.
One morning, just after the little kits had had their scrub in the sunnybay-window, they felt, all at once, old enough to play; and so theybegan to scramble over each other, and run about between the greatcolored glass jars, and even to chase and bite the ends of their owntails. They had not known that they had any tails before that morning,and of course it was a charming surprise. Mrs. Chinchilla looked onlazily and gravely. It had been a good while since she had had time orhad felt young and gay enough to chase her tail, but she was very gladto see the kittens enjoy themselves harmlessly.
Now, while this was going on, some one came up to the window and lookedin. It was the Boy who lived across the street. Mrs. Chinchilla dislikednearly all boys, but she was afraid of this one. He had golden curls anda Fauntleroy collar, and the sweetest lips that ever said prayers, andclean dimpled hands that looked as if they had been made to stroke catsand make them purr. But instead of stroking them he rubbed their fur thewrong way, and hung tin kettles to their tails, and tied handkerchiefsover their heads. When Mrs. Chinchilla saw the Boy she humped her back,so that it looked like a gray mountain, and said, "Sftt!" three times.When the Boy found that she was looking at him, and lashing her tail,and yawning so as to show him her sharp white teeth, he suddenlydisappeared from sight. So Mrs. Chinchilla gave the kittens theirbreakfast, and they cuddled themselves into a round ball, and went fastasleep. They were first rolled so tightly, and then so tied up withtheir tails, that you couldn't have told whether they were three or sixlittle catkins. When their soft purr-r-r-r, purr-r-r-r had firstchanged into sleepy little snores, and then died away altogether, Mrs.Chinchilla jumped down out of the window, and went for her morningairing in the back yard. At the same time the druggist passed behind atall desk to mix some medicine, and the shop was left alone.
Just then the Boy (for he hadn't gone away at all; he had just stoopedout of sight) rushed in the door quickly, snatched one of the kittensout of the round ball, and ran away with it as fast as he could run.Pretty soon Mrs. Chinchilla came back, and of course she counted thekittens the very first thing. She always did it. To her surprise andfright she found only two instead of three. She knew she couldn't bemistaken. There were five kittens in her last family, and two less inthis family; and five kittens less two kittens is three kittens. Onechinchilla catkin gone! What should she do?
She had once heard a lady say that there were too many cats in theworld already, but she had no patience with people who made such wickedspeeches. Her kittens had always been so beautiful that they sometimessold for fifty cents apiece, and none of them had ever been drowned.
Mrs. Chinchilla knew in a second just where that kitten had gone. Itmakes a pussy-cat very quick and bright and wise to take care of andtrain large families of frisky kittens, with very little help from theirfather in bringing them up. She knew that that Boy had carried off thekitten, and she intended to have it back, and scratch the Boy with somelong scratches, if she could only get the chance. Looking at her claws,she found them nice and sharp, and as the druggist opened the door for acustomer Mrs. Chinchilla slipped out, with just one backward glance, asmuch as to say, "Gone out; will be back soon." Then she dashed acrossthe street, and waited on the steps of the Boy's house. Very soon aman came with a bundle, and when the house-maid opened the door Mrs.Chinchilla walked in. She hadn't any visiting-card with her; but thenthe Boy hadn't left any card when he called for the kitten, so shedidn't care for that.
The housemaid didn't see her when she slipped in. It was a very nicehouse to hold such a heartless boy, she thought. The parlor door wasopen, but she knew the kitten wouldn't be there, so she ran upstairs.When she reached the upper hall she stood perfectly still, with herears up and her whiskers trembling. Suddenly she heard a faint mew, thenanother, and then a laugh; that was the Boy. She pushed open a door thatwas ajar, and walked into the nursery. The Boy was seated in the middleof the floor, tying the kitten to a tin cart, and the poor little thingwas mewing piteously. Mrs. Chinchilla dashed up to the Boy, scratchedhim as many long scratches as she had time for at that moment, took thefrightened kitten in her kind, gentle mouth, the way all mother-catsdo (because if they carried them in their forepaws they wouldn'thave enough left to walk on), and was downstairs and out on the frontdoorstep before the housemaid had finished paying the man for thebundle. And when she got that chinchilla catkin home in the safe, sunnybay-window, she washed it over and over and over so many times that itnever forgot, so long as it lived, the day it was stolen by the Boy.
When the Boy's mother hurried upstairs to see why he was crying so loud,she told him that he must expect to be scratched by mother-cats if hestole their kittens. "I shall take your pretty Fauntleroy collar off,"she said; "it doesn't match your disposition."
The Boy cried bitterly until luncheon time, but when he came to thinkover the matter, he knew that his mother was right, and Mrs. Chinchillawas right, too; so he treated all mother-cats and their kittens morekindly after that.
The Story Hour: A Book for the Home and the Kindergarten Page 15