She soon brought it back, and after a time Topsy seated herself bolt upright, and looked at me with such contempt, as if to say, "Never dare enter this basket again."

I never did, and never wanted to, as they found me a very good place in an old clothes-basket, and, to Bridget's delight, gave her a new one instead.

Then Miss Milly took me in her arms, in spite of Topsy's yells and frantic efforts to get at me, saying, "Now, Topsy, if I ever hear you have treated this poor creature badly, I will punish you, and love her best."

After this, though Topsy never cared for me, she treated me like a poor relation, offering me all the tough pieces of meat and bones; but she could never see me near Miss Milly without trouble.

We lived very happily in this nice house for one year. No one had cared for me, and I had settled down like one of the family, and soon my place was a.s.sured, for one day Topsy was missing. Everything was done to find her. Rewards were offered, and, for months, Miss Milly never gave her up, and it made her so ill that no one ever dared mention Topsy to her.

I did pity them all, for they loved her dearly, but to Miss Milly it was like losing a child. She was always very kind to me, but she never was known to pet another cat till you were born. And I do think, Daisy, you can win her love, and in a measure console her for Topsy's loss.

It was a great mystery, her disappearance, for they never got one trace of her. One thing was very sure; she was stolen, for she never would have left of her own accord. Some one suggested that, being a "Salem"

cat, she had gone home to the "witches," as all black cats are said to belong to them.

I missed her, but was very happy to be the only pet in the house. I had many kittens, and they were treated kindly, and mercifully disposed of.

One was always kept till I could wean it, and then a good home was found for it. You were promised to a friend, but it was very fortunate for you that their delay in sending gave you such a hold upon the affections of these nice people that they decided not to give you away.

This pleased the boys, as they did not care to lose their dear little playmate. Miss Milly said, "Daisy shall be mine."

Great changes have come to this home. We have moved twice, and the good Bridget they could no longer afford to keep. We are now about to move again. I know they will provide for me, but I like this nice neighborhood, and the musicales on the back shed. The Bohemian blood in my veins I cannot ignore.

The trouble I have pa.s.sed through makes excitement necessary, and I put my whole heart into the fierce fights, and enjoy them.

Why not? I know people say, "_Cats!_ awful fighting creatures!" Well, but where are the bull-fights, in which man and beast shed each other's gore and men and women look on? Dressed in their laces and diamonds, they applaud while rivers of blood flow from the poor wounded victim.

The genteel c.o.c.k-fights, and hunting down one poor little fox by a pack of hounds! If we are cruel, we learn it of human beings.

I do wish I could be satisfied with a quiet life, but it is too late to reform, and I shall meet my fate here. I will not go with them. You, my dear child, will be the loved one to comfort them. And I charge you to profit by your mother's experience, and you will be a fortunate cat.

This is my mother's story as I heard it from her lips.

Two weeks after this conversation we moved to a small house, with only a few rooms. To me the change made no difference. I was happy, petted by all. It was no surprise to me that at the last moment my mother was missing. But it was a real sorrow to them all. They searched everywhere.

They sent to all the neighbors, asking them to feed her, and let them know if she came back that they could send for her. How I wished I could speak, and tell them that one reason why she left them was the fear of being a burden to them.

For several weeks they never gave her up, but often went to the old place; but no one had seen my mother. At first food had disappeared that they had put out for her, but after a time it was not touched, and no one ever saw her again.

III

MY HOME

Years have pa.s.sed since my mother left us. Though I never forget her, I am very happy with the dear people who were so kind to my poor mother, and I try to be a comfort to them.

No reverses of fortune have touched me. Mrs. Rice is very kind to me, though she is not so fond of cats as her sisters. The boys are just perfect. I love them dearly. Karl, the eldest, is a real tease. He pretends to his aunties that he does not care for me, but no one makes more of me (on the sly) than Master Karl. Will is such a dear little fellow! His love for me made them decide to keep me.

We had one long room, and the seam in the poor old carpet was very prominent. On this seam Will and I had our race-ground. He would run just on the seam, and at the end of the room would jump very high. I would run just behind him, and jump higher. This pleased them all, and we got many kisses and treats for our play. Then we would roll over and over, my claws and tail flying, and we did enjoy it.

I was usually very obedient, but sometimes I had contrary fits. It was the "Bohemian" blood in my veins that my poor mother so often spoke of.

I cannot get rid of it, and it makes me do something naughty. One cold day, just before Christmas, when I was nearly five years old, I ran away. The door of the laundry was open, and without a thought I rushed out. No one missed me. They supposed I was in the laundry. I mounted to my seat on the fence, and just turned around to find a comfortable place, when a strong hand seized me from the other side, and I was carried swiftly down the alley and taken into a strange house.

I was received with open arms. Not one word of reproof was given the big boy who had stolen me, for the wickedness of the act. They asked him, "How did you manage?"

"Oh," he said, "I was looking over the fence, to see if the stuck-up Rices were there, when I espied my Prince, and grabbed him."

"What shall we do with him?" asked the boy's mother.

"Shut him up till he forgets his old home."

(How little they knew about a cat's nature, when they thought I could forget!)

I rushed into a corner, and struck out with open claws at all who approached me, growling just as I had heard dogs growl--an accomplishment I had just discovered. Delighted with my success, I was inclined to make the most of it.

"Well, I must say he has a nice temper." And the bad boy held up his hands, where my etchings, though painful to him, were a credit to my skill. "King Karl and Prince Will must be covered with scars. Who cares!

If they won't play with me, I have got their pet cat, and will keep him, in spite of his beastly temper."

"No, you won't," I said to myself, "if I can help it."

For three wretched days I was shut up. They treated me with great kindness, and tried to pet me, offering me nice food. I was too homesick to care for anything, and too wretched to think of eating, only that I had sense enough to know I must take enough to give me strength. I could not sleep. Visions of my dear home and loved ones kept my eyes wide open, and I did make good resolutions never to run away again if I could get free.

The big boy went away to spend the holidays, leaving orders with them all to keep me, that when he came home he might enjoy the sorrow of the Rices.

"They have sent around slips to all the houses and have advertised, but they shall never get him," he said, with a horrid laugh.

After he had gone, finding I was no pleasure to them, they decided to let me go. They could tell the boy, when he returned, that I ran away.

They were not people who regarded truth at all.

So one day I found the door open, and without waiting to say good-by, I ran home. I had been away three days. It was the day after Christmas, and it seemed to me three years since I left my home.

Stacy Knight, a dear little fellow about Will's age, the son of the friends in whose house we had rooms, happened to be in the bas.e.m.e.nt, and espied me when I jumped on the window. He gave a real Indian yell as I rushed into his arms, and we mounted the stairs, two at a time, and found ourselves in the midst of the family a.s.sembled in the hall, wondering at the war-whoop given by Stacy.

My dear mistress sat down on the floor, hugging me in her arms, while all of them were ready to take me from her.

"Oh, Daisy," she said, "what a sad Christmas we spent without our pet!

Where were you?"

I could not speak and tell her what it had been to me, and they never knew where I had been. After this I always looked on both sides of the fence before I seated myself.

After they had all caressed me and expressed their delight at my return, dear Mrs. Knight said:--

"Now that 'The Prodigal Son' has returned, he must have a party."

"Yes," said Karl and Will, "we had no Christmas; let's give Daisy a tree."

After Stacy, Karl, and Will had indulged in a war-dance, and each had turned me heels over head, they all decided it would be a nice plan. And from that time till the New Year's night, when the party was to be given, we could think of nothing else.