The Story of a China Cat - Hope Laura Lee - Страница 8

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• 8/13
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"At last I have time to breathe, but I am so dirty I do not know what to do," said the China Cat to herself. "I do not believe that any of the other toys that came from the workshop of Santa Claus ever had such an unpleasant adventure as I am having."

But if the China Cat had only known it, the Lamb on Wheels, about whom one of these Make Believe books has been written, had an adventure almost as sad. The Lamb went down into a coal bin, which was a great deal blacker than the negro tenement.

"I wonder what will happen to me next?" thought the China Cat, as she found herself perched on the kitchen shelf. She could look down and see Jeff, his brothers and his sisters, and his father and mother, eating supper. They did not offer the China Cat anything to eat, of course. Toys don't have to eat, which is very lucky sometimes.

"Come now, chilluns! Off to bed wif yo' all!" called Jeff's mother, when supper was finished. "Yo' was up early, an' yo' mus' git to bed early."

"Can't I play with my China Cat?" asked Jeff.

"No, indeedy!" declared the colored woman, shaking her head. "Yo' leave dat cat alone, an' git to bed!"

So to bed went Jeff and the other children. Their beds were down in the basement, in a room just off the kitchen. It was not a very nice home, but it was the best they could get.

Soon it began to grow dark, but there was a street lamp that shone in one of the basement windows, so the China Cat, who could see pretty well in the dark anyhow, managed to look about her.

On the same shelf where she sat, and not far away, was a little Cloth Dog.

"Dear me!" said the China Cat, speaking out loud now, for there was no one in the kitchen, all the family having gone to bed. "Dear me, I didn't know you were here!"

"Oh, yes, I'm here!" barked the Cloth Dog. "That is, what's left of me."

He and the China Cat did not quarrel, though in real life very few dogs and cats are friends. But it is much different with toys.

"Why, has anything happened to you?" asked the China Cat.

"Gracious, yes!" exclaimed the Cloth Dog. "Can't you see that my tail is pulled off?"

The China Cat stretched her neck and looked at the Cloth Dog. Surely enough, in the gleam from the street light she saw that he had no tail.

"Oh, how dreadful!" mewed the Cat. "How did it happen? It must pain you?"

"Not so much as at first," said the Dog. "I'm used to it now. One of the colored children pulled my tail off. I think it was the one they call Arabella. She's always grabbing things away from the others."

"Yes, she grabbed me," said the China Cat. "But I'm glad she didn't pull off my tail. I'm dirty and sticky, and I hardly know myself, but, thank goodness, I'm all here."

"That's more than I can say of myself," said the Cloth Dog sadly. "And I'm afraid you will not be all there after a few days in this house. It's a dreadful place, and the children are so rough!"

"How did you come to be here?" asked the China Cat. "Were you brought here from the workshop of Santa Claus?"

"Bless your whiskers, no!" barked the Cloth Dog. "Of course I once came from North Pole Land, but that was years ago. I was a good-looking toy then, and I had a fine tail. But after a while the children with whom I lived grew tired of me. I was tossed about, thrown into corners, and at last put out in the ashes. There one of these colored children found me, and brought me here. And the very first day there was a scrabble and a fight over me, and my tail was pulled off."

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that!" sighed the China Cat. "If you could only be taken to the store of Mr. Mugg he would put a new tail on you. He mended the broken leg of the Nodding Donkey."

"I'm afraid it is too late," whined the Cloth Dog. "But I am sorry for you. You are such a fine toy, and almost new."

"Yes, I am quite new. In fact, I have never been sold as yet," said the Cat. "I wouldn't be out of the store now, except for the fire. I was going to be taken by a very nice little girl named Jennie Moore. But now, alas, it is too late for that!"

"Tell me about the fire," begged the Cloth Dog. "It will make me forget that I have no tail."

So there on the shelf in the tenement kitchen, the China Cat told the Cloth Dog the story of the fire in the toy shop, and how she had come to be taken away by Jeff.

"I wondered where he had found you when I saw him bring you in this morning," barked the Dog, when the Cat finished her story. "Indeed, you have had many adventures; almost as many as I."

The two unfortunate toys became very friendly there in the half darkness of the night. The Cat was just telling about the Nodding Donkey, and how he had made the lame boy smile, when she suddenly stopped mewing.

"What's the matter?" asked the Cloth Dog.

"I heard a noise," said the China Cat.

"Oh, that's only rain," went on the Dog. "It is raining hard outside, and you hear it more plainly here because we are so near the street. Don't worry. Though this place is dirty, no rain comes in."

So the Cat went on with her story, but as the rain came down harder and faster it brought her another adventure.

Not far from the tenement was a river. And because there had been much rain before this last hard shower, the river had risen very high, until it was almost ready to overflow the banks.

Down pelted the rain, and soon there was a louder roar in the street outside.

"Is that just the rain?" asked the Cat of the Dog.

"It does sound a little different," the Dog replied. "I wonder if anything is happening? And see, what is that on the floor?"

"It is water!" cried the Cat, catching the gleam of it in the light of the street lamp. "Water is running in under the door!" she added.

"Then the river must be overflowing," barked the Dog. "The water is running in here. Oh, what shall we do?"

As the two toys watched they saw the puddle of water on the floor grow larger. The rain pelted down harder than before, and all at once there was a shouting in the streets.

"Get out! Get out, everybody!" came the cry. "There's a big flood! The river is rising! Get up and get out, everybody!"

For a few moments after this wild shouting in the street there was no sound in the negro basement where the China Cat and the Cloth Dog without any tail were perched on the shelf. The rain pelted down harder than before, a regular flood in itself, and to the noise of the drops was added the roar from the flooded river.

Presently there came a pounding on the basement door of the tenement where Jeff, the colored boy, lived.

Bang! Bang! Bang! came the loud knock.

"Who's dat?" asked Jeff's mother from the bedroom where she was sleeping. "Who's dat knockin' at de do'?"

Bang! Bang! Bang! came the sound again.

"Can that be thunder?" whispered the China Cat to the Cloth Dog.

"No, this isn't a thunderstorm," answered the Dog. "It is much worse than any thunderstorm I ever heard. There is going to be a bad time here, with a flood and everything."

"Who's dat?" asked the voice of Jeff's mother again, as the pounding at the door sounded a second time.

"The police!" was the answer.

Jeff, who had been awakened, heard this answer. He covered his head with the clothes, and cowered down in the bed.

"Oh, mah good land!" thought Jeff when he heard this. "De p'lice has done come to git me 'cause I took de China Cat! Oh, good land! I ain't so smart as I thought! Oh, dey's gwine 'rest me suah!"

But the police had not come to get Jeff. Once more the officer pounded with his club on the basement door.

"Come there!" he cried. "Get up and dress and skip out if you don't want to be drowned! The river is rising. It will flood all these basement tenements! You'll have to clear out-all of you! Wake up and get out! We'll help you! Open the door!"

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