The Kitchen Cat, and other Tales | Page 7

fire, with picture-books and toys near; but she was not looking at them. Her eyes were fixed thoughtfully on the fire, and her mind was full of the kitchen cat. She had tried to write to it, but the words would not come, and her fingers trembled so much that she could not hold the pencil straight. The vexation and disappointment of this had made her head ache, and altogether she presented rather a mournful little figure.
"Well, Nurse, and how are we going on?" said Aunt Clarkson, sitting down in the chair Nurse placed for her. Remembering her dream, Ruth could not help giving a glance at Aunt Clarkson's hands. They were fat, round hands, and she kept them doubled up, so that they really looked rather like a cat's paws.
"Well, ma'am," replied Nurse, "Miss Ruth's better; but she's not, so to say, as cheerful as I could wish. Still a few fancies, ma'am," she added in an undertone which Ruth heard perfectly.
"Fancies, eh?" repeated Aunt Clarkson in her most cheerful voice. "Oh, we shall get rid of them at Summerford. You'll have real things to play with there, Ruth, you know. Lucy, and Cissie, and Bobbie will be better than fancies, won't they?"
Ruth gave a faint little nod. She did not know what her aunt meant by "fancies." The cat was quite as real as Lucy, or Cissie, or Bobbie. Should she ask her about it, or did she hate cats like Nurse Smith? She gazed wistfully at Mrs Clarkson's face, who had now drawn a list from her pocket, and was running through the details half aloud with an absorbed frown.
"I shall wait and see the doctor, Nurse," she said presently; "and if he comes soon I shall just get through my business, and catch the three o'clock express."
No, it would be of no use, Ruth concluded, as she let her head fall languidly back against the pillow--Aunt Clarkson was far too busy to think about the cat.
Fortunately for her business, the doctor did not keep her waiting long. Ruth was better, he said, and all she wanted now was cheering up a little--she looked dull and moped. "If she could have a little friend, now, to see her, or a cheerful companion," glancing at Nurse Smith, "it would have a good effect."
He withdrew with Mrs Clarkson to the door, and they continued the conversation in low tones, so that only scraps of it reached Ruth:
"--Excitable--fanciful--too much alone--children of her own age--"
Aunt Clarkson's last remark came loud and clear:
"We shall cure that at Summerford, Dr Short. We're not dull people there, and we've no time for fancies."
She smiled, the doctor smiled, they shook hands and both soon went away. Ruth leant her head on her hand. Was there no one who would understand how much she wanted to see the kitchen cat? Would they all talk about fancies? What were Lucy and Cissie and Bobbie to her?--strangers, and the cat was a friend. She would rather stroke its rough head, and listen to its purring song, than have them all to play with. It was so sad to think how it must have missed her, how much she wanted to see it, and how badly her head ached, that she felt obliged to shed a few tears. Nurse discovered this with much concern.
"And there was master coming up to see you to-night and all, Miss Ruth. It'll never do for him to find you crying, you know. I think you'd better go to bed."
Ruth looked up with a sudden gleam of hope, and checked her tears.
"When is he coming?" she asked. "I want to see him."
"Well, I s'pose directly he comes home--about your tea-time. But if I let you sit up we mustn't have no more tears, you know, else he'll think you ain't getting well."
Ruth sank quietly back among her shawls in the big chair. An idea had darted suddenly into her mind which comforted her very much, and she was too busy with it to cry any more. She would ask her father! True, it was hardly likely that he would have any thoughts to spare for such a small thing as the kitchen cat; but still there was just a faint chance that he would understand better than Nurse and Aunt Clarkson. So she waited with patience, listening anxiously for his knock and the slam of the hall door, and at last, just as Nurse was getting the tea ready, it came. Her heart beat fast. Soon there was a hurried step on the stairs, and her father entered the room. Ruth studied his face earnestly. Was he tired? Was he worried? Would he stay long enough to hear the important question?
He kissed her and sat down near her.
"How is Miss Ruth to-day?" he said