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The last burial took place while Jett was shut up. They dared not put up the monument, for they knew she would discover the grave by that. She hunted for a week, but she never found that bird again.
All the neighbors looked upon her as a mysterious element that had come into their midst. They believed in the witches having unlimited power over black cats, and never dared interfere with her; indeed, her good will they were very glad to gain.
Jett was devoted to Hope. She never killed a rat without bringing it with a purr of satisfaction, and was not satisfied till her little mistress had noticed her, and said, "What a good kitty to catch the naughty rats."
There was one place the children called the "cats' paradise." It was down in the corner of Jack's garden. Here catmint grew in rank profusion. The place was neglected, but nature had rioted there, and it was all abloom with wild flowers and weeds.
Here Jett held her afternoon teas and musicales, and she would frolic with her friends in the sweet-smelling gra.s.s. Her high soprano would mingle with the contralto and other nondescript parts till they produced a "pa.s.sion music" so terrible in its results that it required all Jack's strength to separate them.
Why these musicales always ended in a free fight, Hope wondered. Jack suggested that the catmint intoxicated them, for they were usually captured with their mouths and paws full of it, and as much on their fur coats as they could hold. But this state of happiness was not quite as satisfactory to others as it was to the cats and the children.
Jack announced one day that _she_ had been disturbed by the musicales, and the catmint period was drawing to an end. Jack said:--
"She won't outwit me. Aunt Martha will let me plant some over behind your large barn, in that field, and we will dry all we can. Jett shall have her winter supply, and I will treat every cat in the neighborhood."
Jack worked with a will, and before the man Mrs. Thornton had hired to remove and destroy the catmint bed had arrived, it was nearly all transplanted or cut off to dry. They did enjoy that work.
Hope was seated in a wheel chair her father had bought for her, and Jack delighted in wheeling. She superintended all the work.
Aunt Martha allowed the man of all work to plant all that Jack brought him, though she did not think it best for him to take the catmint from Jack's garden.
Jett and Bimbo were very much interested. Bimbo eyed them in solemn silence for a while, then he yelled, "Go ahead! Hurry up! hurry up!
She'll get you!" till it did seem as if that clever bird knew everything.
Jett's help was rather doubtful, though her interest was not. She followed Jack back and forth, and at every fresh root he would take up she would turn a somersault in the hole, scratching the earth with all her might; then she would rush back--a picture of yellow earth, black fur, and catmint.
These were happy days, too soon followed by sorrowful ones. As summer waned, and autumn advanced, the first frost cast a blight on the little life so fondly cared for by her friends.
Jack's sorrow, when he was made to realize her danger, was pathetic. He was now constantly with his little playfellow when she was able to see him. It was a picture to see her propped up in bed, Jack sitting by the side, in a little rocker, Joanna in her arms, or if too feeble to hold her, lying by her side, while Jett was curled up at her feet.
Poor, sorrowful Aunt Martha hovered around her darling, ready to attend to her slightest wish. Jett was devoted to her. In this case can be seen what devoted creatures cats and dogs can be if they are made friends of.
They seem to realize the approach of that dread messenger, and to be "faithful unto death."
Jett only left the sick child long enough to take a const.i.tutional and her meals. Then she would go back and mew piteously, if the door was closed, to get in to her little mistress. If Hope was asleep, she would jump up on the bed, stand and look at her a little while, perhaps lick her hands, and then lie down where she could watch every movement. If Joanna had fallen on the floor, she would pick her up with her teeth, give her a real shake, as if to say, "What did you fall down for?" and then, jumping up on the bed, deposit her in Hope's arms or by her side.
Never was there a case of greater devotion. She was always pleased to see Jack. She would lick his face and sit in his arms, but on the least movement of her little mistress back she would go and watch her with the deepest affection.
The end came very suddenly. Just at the close of a lovely October day sweet little Hope Farley fell asleep. She had seemed to know that the end was near. She had spoken of her death to her Aunt Martha, saying, "I am so tired, but I do not want to leave you and my dear ones."
She had made her auntie promise that Joanna should be dressed just as they dressed her, and be buried in her arms, saying, "I shall not be so lonesome with my dear dolly, and I know Jack and Jett will come and see me often."
So Joanna had a white cambric embroidered dress just like her little mistress's, that Aunt Martha made (with tears falling on her work), and she was laid in her little mistress's arms. Aunt Martha covered her with flowers, and sheltered her under the sleeve of her little mistress's dress as well as she could, knowing how much would be said about her indulging such a queer fancy of the dear child. As Jack said to her, "I do feel glad Joanna is with her. It seems so hard to put her away alone;" and Aunt Martha agreed with him.
They had the greatest trouble with Jett, to keep her out of the room.
Every time the door was open she would hide under the bed. She had taken Joanna twice out to the seat in the garden, where she had so often seen her in Hope's arms, and Aunt Martha had to shut her out doors while she dressed Joanna.
Hope looked lovely, with beautiful flowers around her, and leaves from the plants she had loved. Her father was dazed at her loss, but Aunt Martha and Jack were the real mourners.
How it happened they never knew. They had kept track of Jett all they could, and Jack had petted her, and tried to comfort her, but all to no purpose. She was like a wild cat, crouching down in corners and watching them all. The last night before the funeral Hope was placed in the casket, and it was closed. Jett must have crawled into a corner under the sofa when the door was open, for she was found in the morning, sitting on the head of the casket, as solemn as if she knew she had been watching her dear little mistress.
She was not willing to go to any one, and disappeared till just as the funeral left the house, when she was seen on the opposite side of the street. When they reached the old cemetery, she was noticed behind some shrubs.
Jack got out of the carriage to see if it was Jett, and take her home, but could not find her. They thought it could not be she; but when days pa.s.sed away and she did not return, they were sure it was Jett who had followed to her little mistress's grave. They sought her everywhere, leaving the outbuildings open, so in case she returned she could get in; but they never found any trace of her again.
There were stories, that they did not give credence to, of a cat's being seen hovering around the grave; but many people did believe that it was Jett guarding the grave of her dear one.
Superst.i.tious people said that she was a ministering spirit sent to guard and comfort the life of that dear little child. That her mission being fulfilled, she went back to those who sent her, perhaps to be still with the dear child in Paradise. Others said she was a witch cat, spared for a little while, to be happy in this beautiful home; but her mission being over, the witches called her back. That perhaps at night she was allowed to visit the grave of the one she had served so devotedly.
But my opinion is, she was just a good, loving cat. She was grateful for all their kindness, and loved little Hope just as all cats love those who are kind to them. She had not been born in that home, as one would know by the strange way she often behaved that she had no training.
Of course her disappearance is hard to account for; but I do believe she could not bear to live in that home after Hope had left it, and she found another one for herself. Of course a cat has a right to an opinion. This is mine.
But does it not show how kind, loving, and faithful cats can be? If properly trained, they make the best companions for children.
Who that ever has seen dear little kittens, so loving and trusting, climbing in the arms of those who are kind to them, can doubt they are given to them for friends?
XXII
WATCH AND CHLOE
Much has been said of the benefit of example. Why, then, when a cat follows the example of the people with whom she lives, should she be called "bloodthirsty" if she kills a chicken? She follows her master to the hen-coop, and looks on in wonder when he wrings the neck of one of the chickens he has fed daily. Then when she takes her own method of killing a chicken for her own eating, where is the harm? She could be taught better, of course.
Dogs are taught not to touch game, even when it falls at their feet, till their master gives them permission. Cats would never steal if they knew it was wrong.
Look at my case. After the theft of that meat from the good "philanthropist," I never took anything else. My mistress made me understand wherein it was wrong. I felt very much ashamed, though I could not be blamed. It was one of the most delicious morsels I ever had.
If a cat is not well fed, she will help herself, just as, under the same circ.u.mstances, human beings would do the same. It is astonis.h.i.+ng how many peculiar traits are brought out when one studies animals.
I heard a story of a cat called Tinker, who lived with a very nice family. They were country people, with a large farm, with horses, cows, dog, and cat, all well cared for, and favorite companions of the children. Nothing was ever killed on that place except rats.
Tinker was a ferocious mouser. She was, however, very fond of all the animals, and the horses would put their heads down to her when she rubbed against their legs. Even the cow did not resent it when she would lick her after she had been milked. They did say that Tinker had been known to help herself to a little, sometimes, before the good Brindle had been milked.
They had hens and chickens in plenty. But they never killed one of their own, always buying their poultry of the farmers around. They were content with selling the eggs in great quant.i.ties, for the hens were so well kept that they laid a great many.
Tinker was well fed; and as she had never seen hens and chickens killed, she treated them as if their right to live could not be questioned. She walked out and in the hen-coop whenever she pleased. She had very nice ways, and was never known to go near the pig-pen, that being, in her opinion, not exactly a pleasure ground.
One day the hens were all out in the large field back of the house, when Tinker was walking about on a voyage of discovery. She soon espied three little chickens of a very tender age s.h.i.+vering with cold and sending forth feeble little peeps. She looked around; then mounting on the nest, she sat over them, and they nestled in her warm fur.
Soon a great clacking announced the return of their mother. She was telling all the gossip of the farm to the other hens. She was just as surprised as she could be to see her place filled. She flew at Tinker in great wrath. Tinker just raised her paw and kept her back and sat there as long as she pleased. The mother hen ran about, telling her story to all the coop a.s.sembled to see the fun. Even the lordly rooster c.o.c.ked his comb about, in wise deliberation, over this most unusual occurrence.
The unusual noise drew out the master, who was so well pleased that he called his wife to see Tinker in her position as chicken nurse.
As soon as she saw she was appreciated, Tinker left her post, and there is no doubt the chickens wished their mother had fur on her rather than stiff feathers.
Does not this prove that a cat would be kind to all creatures, were the example before her such as she could follow? Animals learn to kill by seeing man kill everything he is allowed to without drawing upon himself the penalty of the law.