Mrs. Denville was sitting in a chair with her feet against the oven to warm them, and Mary was not dancing about her as she would have done if she had not had a weak back, but she was slowly circling about on her toes, while she ate a slice of bread and molasses.
“Look under the stove, Black-Face,” said Serena tragically, “and tell me what you see.”
I stooped down. A big ugly, grizzled, tortoise-shell cat with glassy yellow eyes was staring in our direction.
“A grandmother cat you may be sure, and as ugly as sin,” whispered Serena. “Now, come this way. I smell another.”
She led me toward a deep box heaped with sticks of wood which the farmer's wife kept putting on the stove instead of coal.
“They must be rich to burn wood all the time,” said Serena; “now, smell round here.”
I did smell, and discovered a large, young cat—a queer-looking fellow, apparently all white, standing with one side pressed against the wall.
His eyes were shut, and his expression was most peculiar.
“He has probably never seen an Angora before,” remarked Serena.
“If he is frightened of us, what would he do if he saw a thoroughbred, with still longer hair?” I replied.
“Hush, Black-Face,” responded Serena, “up here where common country cats don't know much, I am going to be out and out thoroughbred.”
“Why not, dear?” she asked, suddenly growing calm.
“Because mother told me never to lie, and because I know if we do we are sure to be found out.”
“Well, you may be whatever breed you like,” said Serena with a toss of her head. “I am going to be Angora, pure and simple. I shall say we are only half-sisters.”
She paused for a few minutes, and surveyed me angrily. “Black-Face, you are a teasing little wretch. I wish I had left you at home.”
“That cat behind the box is listening to all you say,” I remarked. “You do not know how clear your voice is. Now, don't try that thoroughbred trick, or he will expose you, if I don't.”
“I am sure he could not have heard us,” replied Serena in a confident tone.
“Very well,” I replied. “Suppose we speak kindly to this cat. He looks much disturbed.”
“I would rather inspire respect than familiarity,” replied Serena tossing her head. “I am going to cry for milk. Good-bye,” and she walked away.