Black, White and Gray, Amy Walton [universal ebook reader txt] 📗

creature's merry antics, and it was indeed wonderful to see how much amusement it was able to find all by itself. First it chased its own tail round and round so fast, that it made one giddy to look at it; then it pounced at its own shadow, and darted back sideways in pretended fear; then it rolled over on its back, and played with its own furry toes. It was a week now since Dan had brought it home, forlorn and miserable, and it had quite forgotten its troubles, and was happy all day long. Even when there was not much for dinner--and that did happen sometimes, in spite of Becky's care--it always purred its little song of thankfulness, and was ready to be pleased, for it had a meek and grateful nature.

Dan, who was sitting at the foot of Becky's couch, with his feet stretched out in front of him, as though he were very tired, looked up as his sister spoke.

"What luck?" he asked sleepily.

Becky turned her dark eyes upon him.

"I'm sorry I waked you," she said. "I meant, because you brought the kit home the same night father wasn't turned off."

Dan nodded seriously.

"It's all been better since," went on Becky. "Father brings his money home, and mother don't worry, and we have dinner every day, and I do think my back don't go all on aching so bad as it did."

"If you was to get quite well, it'd be luckier still," said Dan.

"P'r'aps I shall," said Becky wistfully. "I dreamed ever so beautiful last night, that you and me was dancing to the organ in the street--the one as plays `Pop goes the Weasel.' When I woke, I cried a bit, because it wasn't true. Do you think as it'll ever come true?"

"Just about," said Dan, rousing himself to speak with confidence.

"If so be as it does," continued Becky, "it'll be along of what the little gentleman at Fieldside did for father. If father hadn't kept his place, I couldn't got well, because of paying the doctor and the nourishing things."

"I think of that a deal too," said Dan; "it's all owin' to him."

"If there was ever anything we could do to please him," said Becky, "wouldn't we be glad! He must be such a very kind little gentleman."

Dan shook his head decidedly.

"'Tain't likely," he said. "He belongs to rich folks, him and his sister. They don't want nought from the like of us."

"Well, I'm sorry," said Becky, with a sigh. "I think over it a deal when I'm alone, and sort of make plans in my head; but, of course, they ain't real."

Poor Becky had plenty of opportunity for making plans in her head, for since a year ago she had been alone nearly all day. Before that she had been as gay and lively as the kitten itself, and as fond of play, but one unlucky day she had fallen down some stone steps and hurt her back. All her games were over now: she must lie quite still, Dr Price said, and never run about at all, for a long time. That was a new thing for Becky, who had scarcely known what it was to sit still in her life out of school hours; but her back hurt her so much that she was obliged to give up trying to do all the active things she had been used to, one by one. Her father made her a little couch, and on this in her dark corner she passed many weary hours alone, watching the hands travel round the face of the Dutch clock, and longing for the time for Dan to come home and talk to her. Dan was her chief friend, for though father was very kind, he went early to work, and sometimes came back very late, so that she saw little of him; and as for mother, poor mother went out charing, and was so tired in the evening, that she generally dropped off to sleep directly she had washed up the tea-things.

So Becky's life was lonely, and often full of pain, which was the harder to bear because she had no companion to cheer her and help her to forget it. She even grew to look forward to Dr Price's visits, short as they were, for the day did not seem quite so long when he had clattered in with his dogs at his heels, and spoken to her in his loud kind voice. He was a nice gentleman, she thought, though he did not cure the pain in her back. Besides Dr Price there was only Dan, and when on leaving school Dan got a place as gardener's boy, Becky felt sad as well as pleased, for he would now be away all day.

Just at this fortunate moment, when it was so much needed, the grey kitten had arrived, to be her friend and playfellow, and to comfort her with its coaxing ways. It was, as Dan had said, not nearly so dull now. The kitten shared her meals, played all manner of games with her, almost answered her when she talked to it, and when it was tired would jump up to her shoulder and snuggle itself to sleep. The feeling of the warm soft fur against her cheek was so soothing, that often at such times she would take a nap too, and wake up to find that quite a long while had passed without her knowing it.

So, as she told Dan, it had all been better since the kitten came, and somehow it seemed to make a part of all the fancies and thoughts that passed through her mind, as she lay dreaming, yet awake, on her couch. Becky had never made "plans in her head," as she called them, while she was well and strong, and could run about all day. But now that her limbs had to be idle, her mind began to grow busy, and though she could not move out of the dusky kitchen, she took long journeys in fancy, and saw many strange things with her eyes fast shut. Some of these she would describe to Dan, and some she kept quite to herself; but now, since hearing of Dennis Chester's Round Robin, they all took one form. They were always connected with him or his sister, and what he had done for her father, and curiously enough the grey kitten seemed to belong to them, and she seldom thought of one without the other. If it could have spoken, how many interesting facts it could have told her about its life at Fieldside with Dennis and Maisie! Perhaps its little purring song was full of such memories, as it lay pressed up so close to Becky's cheek. At any rate it contrived in some way to get into most of her dreams, whether asleep or awake. But though her life was on the whole happier than it had been, there were still some very hard days for Becky to bear, days when the kitten's merriest gambols were not enough to make her forget her pain.

They were generally days when Mrs Tuvvy had "run short," as she called it, and left very little for dinner, so that; Becky grew faint and low for want of food. For Mrs Tuvvy, even when her husband brought home his wages regularly, was not a good manager. On Saturday night and Sunday she would provide a sort of feast, and have everything of the best. After that the supplies became less and less each day, until on Friday or Saturday there was not much besides bread and cheese, or a red herring, until Tuvvy brought home his wages again. On such uncertain fare poor Becky did not thrive, and she always knew that towards the end of the week she should have a "bad day" of pain and weariness.

"There ain't much dinner for yer," said Mrs Tuvvy one morning as she stood ready to go out charing. "I've put it on the shelf. Don't you go giving any to that foolish kitten, and I'll see and bring summat home for supper."

The door banged, and Becky was alone. She and the kitten would be alone now until five o'clock, and must pass the time as they could. The morning went quickly enough, and when it was nearly one o'clock the kitten, who knew it was dinner-time, began to mew and look up at the shelf.

Becky sighed a little as she took down the mug and plate. There certainly was not "much," as Mrs Tuvvy had said, and, moreover, what there was did not look tempting, for there was only a little watery milk and a piece of hard bread and cheese.

"I wish we had nourishing things for dinner, kitty," she said, as she poured some milk into a saucer, and crumbled some bread into it. "You'd like pies and chickens and such, shouldn't you? and so should I. I don't seem to care about bread and cheese."

The kitten ate up its portion eagerly and looked for more, with a little inquiring mew.

"No, no, Kitty," answered Becky, "there ain't no more to-day. To-day's Friday, you know. We'll have to wait and see what mother brings back for supper. P'r'aps it'll be fried fish or sausages--think of that! You must wash your face now, and go to sleep, and the time'll soon pass."

The kitten soon took the last part of this advice, and curled itself into a soft little ball beside its mistress, but somehow Becky could not sleep this afternoon. The sofa seemed to be harder than usual, full of strange knobs and lumps that were not generally there. Whichever way she tried to lie was more uncomfortable than the last; the room felt hot and stifling, the rain pattered with a dull sound against the window, and her back began to ache badly. Presently she left off trying to go to sleep, and a few tears dropped on to the kitten's furry back. It would be such a long time before any one came home!

Just then a horse's hoofs clattered down the street, and there was a smart rap on the door. It was flung open, and on the threshold stood Dr Price, booted and spurred, the eager white faces of Snip and Snap in the background, with their tongues lolling out thirstily. Poor Becky clutched her kitten to her breast in terror.

"Oh," she cried, "the dogs! Don't let 'em come in. I've got a cat!"

But it was too late. Snip and Snap were in already, running round the kitchen in search of game, sniffing and poking their black noses everywhere. In another minute Becky felt sure they would leap on the sofa, and snatch the kitten from her.

"Oh, _do_ send 'em out," she cried in an agony. "They'll kill it."

"Not they," said the doctor soothingly. "Don't you be afraid. We'll soon settle 'em.--Here, Snip, Snap, come out of that, you rascals."

It was not, however, settled very soon. Becky lay trembling on her couch, while Dr Price gave chase round the kitchen to the dogs, lashing at them with his whip, stumbling over chairs, and giving loud and sudden exclamations as they continually escaped his grasp. At last, however, he caught them,