CHAPTER THIRTEEN
TORN-NOSE
T
THE new house was not far from the Children’s Hospital, and a young doctor who often passed that way, became much interested in the attire of Eunice’s cats.
“Why does the long, blue one wear tennis trousers?” he asked one day.
This was because Ivanhoe’s pantalettes were not ruffled like Weejums’, but made of stiff white piqué, with the trimming laid on plain.
“They’re more suitable,” Eunice replied. And she called his attention to Ivanhoe’s blanket, which was made from a gentleman’s handkerchief, with a green and red border of horseshoes and little whips.
“You get those down at the ‛Teapot’ forsix cents, don’t you?” said the doctor, nodding intelligently. “The night-watchman has one.”
“Yes, they asked me if I wanted a lady’s or gentleman’s handkerchief, and of course I said a gentleman’s. It saves lots of trouble in the hemming, ’cause you only have to cut out the neck.”
“I wish you’d bring some of these fellows up to the hospital, and show the children. Those clothes would please them nearly to death.”
“I’ll ask,” Eunice said, taking the doctor’s hand. “You come and ask, too.”
But Mrs. Wood came out on the porch just then, and when the doctor had assured her that there were no “catching” illnesses at the hospital, she said that Eunice might go.
“I’ll take Clytie,” Eunice said, “because she’s the handsomest. And she can wear all the clothes.”
“All at once?” asked the doctor, astonished.
“Yes, it keeps her from kicking, and it’s the easiest way to carry them.”
The little crippled children spent a wonderful hour in seeing Clytie dressed in her various costumes, and there was a great deal of conversation as to which became her most.
“I like her best in the satin ball-blanket, with the make-believe roses,” said one.
“No, that ain’t no go. She looks a sight han’somer in the caliky pants.”
“Does her mittens take off too?” asked a very small voice from a corner, where somebody who had been badly burned was trying not to cry.
“No, those came with her. I’ll let you feel ’em,” Eunice said, and the soft plush of a white paw was laid in the little hand, while eager fingers solved the puzzling question of a cat with mittens.
“If you ever want to give her away,” the matron said, smiling, as Eunice bade her good-bye, “I hope you will let us have the first chance.”
“Oh, we shall never give her away!” Eunice said. “You see she has mittens, and we love her next to Weejums.”
But this shows just how little one can tell about what may happen, for Clytie did go to the hospital that very spring.
Mrs. Wood decided to leave Alleston, and live East for the next few years, so that Franklin could prepare for college at a certain school that she knew of, and all the children would receive many advantages from being near a great city.
“Don’t say New York,” Grandmother said, when the plan was being talked over. “New York children have such thin legs!”
“I think we shall settle in one of the Oranges, just out of New York,” Mrs. Wood said. “Alec and Maude will look up a cottage for us.”
“Your brother will spoil the boys,” said Grandmother, disapprovingly; “only,” she added, brightening, “I never knew a Wood to be spoiled.”
“Will Cyclone go, too, and the rabbits?” asked Kenneth, at his mother’s knee.
“No, dear, only Weejums can go with us,for it’s a long trip, you remember, and there are plenty of rabbits around New York.”
“But not Dulcie,” said Kenneth, with a quivering lip, “or—Stamper!”
Perhaps the time when one first discovers that pets are only pets, and not real people, as one had supposed, is the saddest moment of one’s little life,—especially when it often turns out that the best-loved animal is not at all valuable, and must be left behind.
Many tears were shed by the younger children, and a few in private by Franklin, as the rabbits were made over to “Beansy,” and Cyclone was carried off triumphantly by a boy who had long desired him. But Franklin knew that all this meant a turning point in his life, and laid aside the money that he received for his pets to help buy school books, and, as he said, “instruments,” for Franklin was going to be a doctor.
Eunice and Kenneth recovered their spirits at the thought of living within a short distance of New York, where there would be matinees,concerts, and immense toy-shops where one could go in and hear the fur animals squeal, without being expected to buy one. All the wonderful wind-up toys came from New York; it was their home, and the home of Huyler’s chocolates, with their many different kinds of linings.
But it was hard to leave Clytie at the hospital, even if everybody was delighted to see her, and the young doctor did show Franklin the operating-room, and ever so many things in bottles.
Clytie’s last night at home was quite pathetic, because she thought, up to the last moment, that the family was packing to take her to the lake, and had begun to wash Paul Jones and Proserpine for the journey. They were quite big cats now, but, lacking younger sisters, had to be washed as hard as if they were new.
“I must say I don’t care for travel,” said Clytie to Torn-nose out on the fence; “Mother does. But I’ve always been the old-fashioned feline kind of cat that likes a home.”
“One sees a great deal of life,” said Torn-nose, thoughtfully.
“Yes, but only the worst side. You have told me yourself that those whom you trusted often hurled banana skins at you.”
“I’m sorry you’re going to the lake,” said Torn-nose. “Being round with you and Weejums has given me more home comfort than I have known since mother died.”
“You ought to give up being a travelling man, and settle down somewhere,” said Clytie. “Any one would be proud to own you, and it’s the cat that makes the home.”
“I never had a home,” said Torn-nose, sadly. “I’m what is known as a self-made cat.”
“Wow,—yowe-ow, pur-r-ow-ow-ow,” called Eunice and Kenneth together from their window, and Clytie heard Mrs. Wood say:
“Children, children, go to bed immediately! Isn’t it bad enough to have a cat fight under the window, without your joining in?”
“Imitation is the sincerest flattery,” called Torn-nose from the fence, as Clytie vanishedin the darkness; “but how strange that they should have thought we were quarrelling!”
TORN-NOSE
TORN-NOSE
Splash! came a mug of water from Biddy’s window straight into Torn-nose’s face, and Clytie heard him plunge, with a great crash, into a cold-frame in the next yard.
“Faith, I aimed at his yow,” said Biddy the next morning, “and have rayson to think I hit it.”
Biddy was to take Ivanhoe with her, because she feared that no one else would have him, and she had a married sister in the country who had promised to be a mother to him. And Elijah was sent to the farm to comfort Mustard, who had not been able to get along at all with Senator Hicks. But Paul Jones and Proserpine were to remain in the house, as the new tenants had expressed a desire to keep them, and as these tenants were of the kind who know how to arrange a most attractive string and paper for one’s tail, the kittens never missed Clytie at all.
Clytie missed them for a time, and then the charm of being an only cat began to grow on her. The doctors petted her; the nurses made her a fine gingham collar of the stuff like their uniforms, to show that she belonged to the hospital staff.
Torn-nose came often to see her, and gaveher some valuable hints about keeping mice out of the basements; it seems that there is a certain way of catching them that saves time and strength, when one has to do it by the quantity.
“Why do you wear that kind of collar?” he asked one night.
“To show that I’m a hospital cat,” Clytie said. “I help care for the sick, like the doctors and nurses, only I do different things.”
A few nights after this Clytie was sitting up alone in the hall with the night-watchman, when she heard a mournful cry from outside. It sounded like the voice of Torn-nose, but there was something so sad about it, that she jumped off the watchman’s lap, and ran as fast as possible to see what was the matter.
“Pur-r-e-ow, Torn-nose, where are you?” she called; but there was no answer, and, after a long search, she found the poor old warrior lying quite helpless on the grass, with a dreadful wound in his side.
“Oh, what has happened!” Clytie cried. “What cruel person has done this?”
Torn-nose tried to speak, but the words died away in his throat, and only a faint purr reached Clytie’s ears. But Clytie knew what happened in the hospital, when people lay very still, and did not answer questions—the doctor was sent for; and as she listened, she could hear the step of Dr. Haskell, the young man who had been Eunice’s friend, on his night round.
Back she tore to the hospital, and up the steps, just as the doctor came down into the hall.
“Emergency case?” he asked playfully, as Clytie rolled at his feet. “What’s the matter with the cat, Michael?”
“Looks as if she wanted you to follow her,” said Michael, watching her curiously. “If it was a dog now, I’d say that’s what was wanted.”
“Well, let’s try,” said the doctor; and as he started for the door, Clytie bounded on ahead of him, with the most imploring mews.
“Give us the lantern, Michael,” said the young man, and he followed Clytie across the lawn, to the place where Torn-nose lay.
“Gunshot wound, eh?” he said, bending over his patient. “Lend a hand here, Michael!” And Torn-nose was carried tenderly into the hall, where his wound was dressed as carefully as if he had been a person, and he was put to bed in the night-watchman’s room.
The day after this, Clytie had a little red cross sewed on one side of her collar, and was known ever afterwards as the “First Aid Cat.” Torn-nose recovered, and when Dr. Haskell left the hospital, went with him to be his office cat.
“How did you happen to get shot?” Clytie asked him, the day that he was first able to sit up and take nourishment.
“No reason, whatever. I was merely removing a broiled chicken from a kitchen-table, and as I had left another one for the family, they had no cause to complain.”
“You will never need to steal chickens any more after this,” Clytie said. “Dr. Haskell is a kind man, and will always be your friend.”
“A RED CROSS CAT”
“A RED CROSS CAT”
This turned out to be true, for the doctor grew fond, as well as proud, of his warlike cat; and as Torn-nose gradually improved in conversationand manners, he did his owner great service in the office by entertaining patients while they waited.
But of course all this happened long after the Woods had left town, and Weejums had entered upon the most astonishing of her experiences.