Pussy Black-Face Or The Story of a Kitten and Her Friends by Marshall Saunders

Author:Marshall Saunders [Saunders, Marshall]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-09-05T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER X

WE REACH THE COUNTRY

I found myself in the arms of a slight young man, who had blue eyes and yellow hair. He had slipped forward when the train stopped, and had taken me as I was handed out.

Cuddling me up to him quite nicely, he said slyly—“A kitty that looks as if she had been struck by lightning.”

I suppose I was dreadfully rumpled, still I didn't like to hear it, so I said “Meow!” in a loud voice, hoping that some of our own party would hear me. They did not, though I saw them in a great confusion of heads, and arms, and hurrying feet.

The train did make the people jump at this little station. For two or three minutes it was dreadful to see the crowding and pushing, and to hear the thumping of boxes. I thought that the Denvilles' trunks would be knocked all to pieces.

Finally, when the trouble seemed at the very worst, the train gave a dreadful yelling and breathing and slowly dragged away.

“Where is my pussy?” I heard in Mary's dear voice. “Where is my Black-Face? Here are the others, but where is she?”

My captor slipped up to her and held me out.

“Oh! thank you,” said Mary, and she took me in her arms.

This was the first really happy moment that I had known since leaving Boston. I snuggled down to her. I even began to purr.

Mr. and Mrs. Denville were standing talking to a tall, burly man in big top boots, homespun clothes, and a soft felt hat.

Mr. Denville called him Mr. Gleason, and I found that he was the farmer who had bought the old Denville homestead. I liked his face—it was so humorous. Sometimes his mouth stopped smiling, but his eyes never stopped. They were twinkling all the time, whether he was talking or keeping still.

He was a very big man, and he stood looking about at us all without a word, but with his eyes just dancing.

“Now,” said Mr. Denville at last, in his business-like way, “we are ready to start, Mr. Gleason.”

The farmer pulled himself together, laughed “Ho! ho!” in a jolly voice, just as if Mr. Denville had made some good joke, then led the way to the back of the station house. There was a good-sized, double-seated carriage there, with a canopy top, and near it stood a large express wagon.

“Ho! ho! ho!” laughed the farmer again, as he gazed round on us all—Mr. and Mrs. Denville, Mary as she held me in her arms, Anthony, Mona, Slyboots and Serena in their boxes, nurse Hannah, and the big cage of canaries, and the heap of trunks—“Ho! ho! I guess I'll have to lay in some more cornmeal, and put another house on the top of the one I've got.”

While the farmer stood laughing to himself, Mr. Denville calmly put his wife, Mary and me in the back seat of the carriage, and got in the front seat himself.

Seeing this, the farmer stopped chuckling, and going up to the horses' heads, unfastened the rope that tied them.

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