Read Ebook: A Winter Nosegay: Being Tales for Children at Christmastide by Crane Walter

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Ebook has 1653 lines and 49602 words, and 34 pages

"The kid in the neighbouring field pranced for very joy at the music. He had never had an accompaniment before; and he frisked about here, there, and everywhere, inviting even the frog beneath his feet to join him in the dance. Unequal playmates, you will say; and so thought the frog; but the kid was delighted nevertheless, though he soon forsook his partner, and went careering on.

"Out from her hutch the rabbit poked her head, with a sprig of forget-me-not in her mouth. Her ears were pricked up, and she listened. 'What can it all mean?' she asked her little ones.

"I looked towards the duck-pond. 'What lovely music!' cried one duckling to his comrade.

"'Hideous, you mean!' cried the other, and then they fought and quarrelled till scarcely a feather was left between them. This is the way with quick-tempered little ducklings: they fight for a worm, and are good friends again as soon as either of them has eaten it up. Sulky little boys and girls have a lesson to learn from them in this, so that even a duckling is a teacher at times, if we can only read our lesson aright.

"The noise the dogs were making reached even the end of the field, where a blackbird was busily engaged with an obstinate worm, who preferred his hole to the open air. And the terrified bird forsook half his dinner, in his anxiety to get away.

"My adventure, you see," continued Pussy, "at any rate created a noise in the neighbourhood! At length the dogs' master came out with a whip in his hand. He walked up to them, and must have laid about him pretty freely, for their howling increased to something indescribable. Then suddenly they stopped, and I heard the dog-whip flung fiercely at the crouching curs. And then their master went away, as I could tell by his retreating steps.

"'So you are paid out, you three cruel, mischief-makers!' I cried, and leaped down again from the wall.

"They howled back their reply, which I did not wait to hear--and that is the end of my story," said Pussy.

"Thank you, Pussy dear!" I said. And King Charlie danced frantically round the room to show his delight at the way the adventure had ended.

"I hate low under-bred curs, and I am always glad to see them punished," he cried, again assuming his kingly look. He was a despot in spirit, and really thought himself King of the dogs. Poor, harmless, vain little Charlie, I loved him all the same!

"Very well," began King Charles, "very well; a tale you shall have, but a short one. My tail is not long, and my tales are not long," and he looked towards Pussy; then at me; but neither of us smiled: he was only a dog of small intellect, so I forgave him.

"Your story was of dogs," he went on; "mine shall be of cats. You hate dogs--I hate cats; therefore we like each other."

Pussy did not quite follow the reasoning, as I could see from her puzzled face; but since the end was true, and the argument sounded well, she thought it must be all right.

"Of course I hated her for this alone; but another vile practice she had increased my dislike for her. She would, every morning after the piano was dusted, jump upon the music-stool, and thence bound on to the keyboard. She would then walk about on it backwards and forwards, making the most abominable sounds--screeching notes, buzzing notes, groaning notes; groaning notes, buzzing notes, screeching notes, worse than the railway train. I could not stay in the same room with her, and used rather to go out and sit in the cold attic.

"I never actually fought her, for I always pitied her weakness, and her claws were very long and sharp. Her daughter was just as annoying in other ways, though I must confess that her ball-games were rather pretty. But still I do not agree with frivolity being turned into a science, and her games were almost scientific in grace and action. I will try to describe to you her morning occupation.

"First of all, of course, was the mewing scene--'Mieaou--mieaou--mieaou!' 'What is it my little sweetie wants, then?' the lady of the house would ask; 'does it want its pretty little ball?' And then she would throw the miserable soft ball to her.

"Half asleep?" suggested Pussy.

"Perhaps half asleep, but I forget. The kitten would then watch where the ball fell, waiting till it stopped rolling. She would never touch it until it got to a considerable distance from her. Then she would suddenly dart upon a hassock or a footstool close by it, and fiercely gaze down upon it. After a while, she would stretch out one paw, and set it rolling, and, as it rolled, crawl after it, crouching low down to the ground.

"Suddenly a pounce, and a little squeak of delight: 'The ball is mine,' she thinks, and begins to play with it. She tosses it to and fro, now biting it, now patting it--preparatory, no doubt, to swallowing it.

"But do not be too sure, Miss Pussy! See, the ball flies from her, as if possessed with life. It rolls away, on and on. And Pussy, who had thought it dead, seems struck with wonder. 'Can it be alive after all?' she thinks; 'there must be a mouse inside it!' then scamper, scamper, a spring and a leap, and she has caught the ball again. Once more it escapes from her claws--once more she bounds towards it, and now it is surely hers. I confess it was rather interesting to me to look on, and more than once I nearly joined in the chase after the ball myself. Then Pussy would roll about on the floor with it, but never did she find a mouse inside it. Poor Pussy, every day she deceived herself thus! Then I would laugh to myself. Cats are such silly aimless things! They have no higher motives than a soft ball!"

"Yes," said Miss Perkie, "but isn't it time you began your story?"

"That is my story, you simpleton!" answered King Charlie.

"Oh, I did not know that: it was not much like one, you know."

"Eh? I call it a capital story. But now it is your turn again, unless Miss Nelly will tell us one?" he said, and turned to me.

"I don't know many stories of cats' and dogs' adventures; but I will describe a walk I once took with the dog I had before you, Charlie, if you like."

"The next thing I saw was Tim coming along, wagging his tail, the tom-cat dead between his teeth.

"I scolded Tim, and beat him; but he could not understand that he had not done a very virtuous deed. For my own part, I was not sorry the cat had been killed; he was a great nuisance in the neighbourhood, and often used to steal our chickens. So I could not find the heart to give Tim all the beating he deserved; and when he stood up on his hind-legs, half-sorrowfully, half-beseechingly, looking into my face, I felt that he had only acted according to his nature, and that what was wrong in us to do might not be a sin in him. Therefore I took the dear old dog back again into my favour, and forgave him his disobedience in not coming when I called him. The darling old fellow bore me no spite, and soon he was gambolling along again at my side, as though nothing had happened."

"Quite right, quite right!" interposed King Charlie at this point; "but go on with the story."

"We walked on until we came to a farm-yard," I continued. "All of a sudden Tim rushed forward, then back again to me, barking loudly, as though mad.

"'What is it, Tim? What is it? Good dog! good fellow!' I cried to him, but no good; he seemed distracted about something.

"Then I looked in the direction in which he was barking, and there I saw on the steps of the barn a large toy-lamb, which some children must have left behind them. On its back a bird was perched. The poor dickie had made a mistake; he thought, no doubt, it was a real lamb! And Tim, too, who had never seen such an extraordinary sight before, was astonished beyond measure, and resented what he thought was meant for a personal insult to himself.

"He scrambled under the wooden fence that surrounded the farm-yard, and hurried towards the terrible object.

"'Come back--here, Tim--Tim!' I shouted after him, but in vain: the bird had flown from the lamb's back, and the lamb was already torn to tatters by the furious dog.

"Then he came back to me, barking 'See how I have treated the impostor!'

"But I did not see with his eyes. I whipped him again, and after having given the woman at the farm enough money to buy another lamb, I took him home. Two misbehaviours in one walk I thought quite enough.

"Poor old Tim! he died soon afterwards, and then you came, you know, Charlie. That's all my story. I love to recall my memories of dear old Tim; but I am afraid I've not interested you two much."

"No, not much, as far as I am concerned," rudely answered King Charles. I did not mean it, but I had made him very jealous by the love I had shown for Tim. I could not therefore take offence at his rude answer, especially as His Majesty had always been petted and spoilt so much.

"It is Perkie's turn now to tell her other story," he added.

"I am ready," said Pussy, and began at once: "As I said before, my story shall be about the same three dogs, and how they tried to catch a mouse. I heard it from the mouse's own lips--I'll tell you how, later on--so it must be true!

"The lazy dogs were, as usual, snoring in the kitchen of the house to which they belonged. A little mouse peeped her head out of a hole, and saw them asleep. 'Surely,' she thought,--'surely I can get onto the table without waking them.' So she tried.

"She reached the table without a sound, and the dogs still snored on peacefully. To mount the leg of the table, and to climb up among the dishes and glass were but the matter of a moment to her. Then she set to work. As she tasted the nice, fresh cheese, she quite forgot all about her enemies, the dogs. She clattered the plates, and made such a noise, that they soon started from their sleep.

"'A mouse! a mouse on the table!' they cried, and rushed towards it.

"'I am, anyhow, safe up here,' thought mousie, and nibbled on.

"The dogs soon grew weary of waiting below, and consulted together as to what they should do. At last they hit upon a plan. They seized the table-cloth between their teeth, and began to drag it from the table. Crash! crash! down came the dishes and plates and vases, knives and forks and all, smothering the dogs in broken bits of glass and water.

"Poor little mousie was nearly dragged down too, only she just managed to scramble onto the table again, whence she leaped down to the ground. The dogs saw her, however, and gave chase. She climbed up the wooden partition leading to the loft; but a friend of mine sat up there in wait for her. The sly puss had expected that all would turn out as it had happened, and thought she would get a nice meal without the trouble of hunting it down. She was mistaken, though--for mousie saw her, and stopped half-way up the wall, just out of reach of the dogs. They stood below, barking at her, but could do nothing more.

"After a while mousie felt her strength giving way, so she ran a little sideways along the wall, jumped down, and scampered through the open door along the passage. Her three torturers hurried after her, and away they all went helter-skelter.

"Now, midway across the passage stood the hall-bench. The mouse sprang over it at one bound; but the three clumsy dogs were not so clever. The first one jumped too short, and he just caught the further side of the bench; he pulled it backwards, and together both came down with a crash. He limped back to the hearth-side with a lame leg, having had enough of mouse-catching. His two companions saw his fall, and followed him. All bullies are cowards!" sagely added Pussy, parenthetically.

"And what became of the mouse?" asked the impatient Charlie.

"Why, I was there for her all ready at the end of the passage, and the dogs had done my work for me. But I did not eat her up. I promised her her life if she would tell me all about how she escaped from them, and what they had suffered--and that's how I know it all."

"What are you thinking about, child, calling me Pussy?" exclaimed my godmother, shaking me from a deep sleep. "I have come to bid you good-bye, as I am going now. Little girls should be more respectful to their elders."

"Little girls should not dream foolish things. You should know better, my dear. Now, good-bye, Nelly!"

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