Miss Elliots Girls | Page 6

she would patiently watch her opportunity and
steal in, and when my mother found that she was perfectly quiet and
that it distressed me to have her shut out, she was allowed to remain.
She would lie for hours at the foot of my bed watching me, hardly
taking time to eat her meals, and giving up her dearly loved rambles out
of doors to stay in my darkened room. I have thought some times if I
had died then Dinah would have died too of grief at my loss. But I
didn't die; and when I was getting well we had the best of times, for I
shared with her all the dainty dishes prepared for me, and every day
gave her my undivided attention for hours. It was about this time that I
composed some verses in her praise, half-printing and half-writing
them on a sheet of foolscap paper. They ran thus:--
'Who is it that I love so well? I love her more than words can tell. And
who of all cats is the belle? My Dinah.
Whose silky fur is dark as night? Whose diamond is so snowy white?
Whose yellow eyes are big and bright? Black Dinah.
Who broke the lamp, and in the gloom A ball of fire flew round the
room, And just escaped an awful doom? Poor Dinah.
Who, to defend her kittens twain, Flew at big dogs with might and
main, And scratched them till they howled with pain? Brave Dinah.
Who at the table takes her seat With all the family to eat, And picks up
every scrap of meat? My Dinah.
Who watched beside me every day, As on my feverish couch I lay, And
whiled the tedious hours away? Dear Dinah.
And when thou art no longer here, Over thy grave I'll shed a tear, For
thou to me wast very dear, Black Dinah.'
"Did you really used to set a chair for her at the table and let her eat
with the folks?" Fanny Eldridge asked.
"Well, Fannie, that statement must be taken with some allowance.

Occasionally when there was plenty of room she was allowed to sit by
me, and I assure you she behaved with perfect propriety. I kept a fork
on purpose for her, and when I held it out with a bit of meat on it she
would guide it to her mouth with one paw and eat it as daintily as
possible. I never knew her to drop a crumb on the carpet. Indeed, I
know several boys and girls whose table manners are not as good as
Dinah Diamond's."
"I suppose you mean me, Auntie," said Mollie. "Mamma is always
telling me I eat too fast, and I know I scatter the bread about sometimes
when I'm in a hurry."
"Well, Mollie," said Miss Ruth, laughing, "I was not thinking of you,
but if the coat fits, you may put it on."
"What became of Dinah at last, Miss Ruth?"
"She made a sad end, Fannie, for as she grew older her disposition got
worse instead of better, until she became so cross and disagreeable that
she hadn't a friend left but me. She would scratch and bite little children
if they attempted to touch her, and was so cruel to one of her own
kittens that we were raising to take her place--for she was too old and
infirm to be a good mouser--that we were afraid she would kill the poor
thing outright. One morning, after she had made an unusually savage
attack on her son Solomon, my mother said: 'We must have that cat
killed, and the sooner the better. It isn't safe to keep such an ugly
creature a day longer.' Dinah was apparently fast asleep on her cushion
in the corner of the kitchen lounge when these words were spoken. In a
few minutes she jumped down, walked slowly across the room and out
at the kitchen door, and we never saw her again."
"Why, how queer! What became of her?"
"We never knew. We inquired in the neighborhood, and searched the
barn and the wood-shed, and in every place we could think of where
she would be likely to hide, but we could get no trace of her, and when
weeks passed and she did not return we concluded that she was dead."

"You don't think--do you think, Miss Ruth, that she understood what
was said and knew if she stayed she would have to be killed?"
"I do," said Mollie, positively. "I'm sure of it!--and so the poor thing
went off and drowned herself, or, maybe, died of a broken heart."
"Oh!" said Nellie Dimock, "poor Dinah Diamond!"
"Nonsense, Mollie!" said Susie Elliot. "Cats don't die of broken hearts."
"She had been ailing for some days,"