Miss Elliots Girls | Page 6

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," Miss Ruth explained, "refusing her food and looking forlorn and miserable, and I am inclined to think instinct taught her that her end was near. You know wild animals creep away into some solitary place to die, and Dinah had a drop or two of wild-cat blood in her veins. I fancy she hid herself in some hole under the barn and died there. It was a curious coincidence, that she should have chosen that particular time, just after her doom was pronounced, to take her departure. But what grieved me most was that, excepting myself, every member of the family rejoiced that she was dead.
"Poor Dinah Diamond! She was beautiful and clever, and constant and brave, but she lived unloved and died unlamented because of her bad