Little Mary came slowly up to Mrs. Darley, and laid a hand on her arm. “If you give me that kitty,” she said solemnly, “and I don't take good care of it, I hope the Lord will punish me.”
Mrs. Darley smiled. “I don't think that there is any danger of your ill-treating an animal. Well, now I must go. I am glad that my wandering kitten was brought here. What a blessed thing it is, that there is this refuge for lost animals.”
“And are you not going to take away a cat?” asked Mary gently.
“I don't think so,” replied Mrs. Darley. “I have four at home. I suppose, though, I could take one, for five is my limit. I never keep more than that. Mercy,” she said to the woman who had just come into the room, “have you any hopeless cases?”
“Yes, ma'am,” said the woman, “there's that Jane,” and she pointed to a gray cat in the corner. “She's got to be killed with the old cats, I think. She's ugly looking, and she's lame, and she won't take any trouble to make herself agreeable to strangers, and she gives the young kittens a dreadful time of it. She don't enjoy life herself, and she won't let any one else enjoy it.”
“Poor Jane,” said Mrs. Darley. “I wonder if I could soften that unhappy face. Mercy, I'll try her. Just put her in a basket, and I will take her home—now good-bye, Black-Face.”
I was in a whirl of confused emotions. My dear mistress was going to leave me, and I was helpless. I was not strong enough to make her take me with her. I should never again see my dear father and mother and brother and sister. It seemed to me that my heart was breaking.
“Cheer up, Black-Face,” whispered Mrs. Darley, for I had climbed on her shoulder, and had my head close against her face. “Cheer up. Partings are hard to bear, both for cats and human beings, but they are sometimes for our good. You will have a lovely home with that dear child—Good-bye.”
She hugged me to her for a minute, then she resolutely put me down, and though I ran and cried after her, Mary and her mother held me back. Mrs. Darley went out of the room without me, and with that horrible Jane.
I was almost a crazy little cat, and Mary's eyes filled with tears as she listened to my cries.
“Perhaps, mamma,” she said, “we ought not to keep her.”