The Tale of Miss Kitty Cat | Page 4

a terrible sight. And it made him hasten all the faster.
"My goodness! What a temper!" he said under his breath.
Loping across the farmyard, he looked about him uneasily. He hoped
nobody had seen Miss Kitty Cat driving him out of the barn. He knew
it would be a hard matter to explain to any one. All his farmyard
friends would be sure to think it a great joke.
Luckily there was no one in sight except Henrietta Hen.
"She won't notice anything," Spot assured himself. "She's the stupidest
person on the farm."
Having nothing more to worry about except his scratched nose, old
Spot crawled under the woodshed and nursed his wounds during the
rest of the morning.
As for Miss Kitty Cat, she stayed in the barn a long time.
"What a worthless fellow that old dog is!" she thought. "This barn is
full of mice! I don't believe he has caught one in all the years he has
lived on the farm."

V
SPOTS AND SPECKLES
WHEN she first met Miss Kitty Cat face to face Henrietta Hen
exclaimed, "What a pity!"
Miss Kitty Cat hadn't intended to speak to Henrietta Hen at all. She
didn't care, as a rule, to have anything to do with hens. She often
remarked that she liked eggs and she liked chickens; but she never
could see what hens were good for.

Well, when Henrietta Hen spoke to her like that Miss Kitty Cat paused
and stared at her coolly for a moment or two. Then she asked in rather a
distant tone, "What's a pity?"
Now, Henrietta Hen seldom knew when she was snubbed. And
goodness knows people snubbed her often enough, too. For she was
forever making remarks about their looks. And now she said to Miss
Kitty Cat, "It's a pity your speckles are so big."
Miss Kitty Cat saw at once that Henrietta Hen was a vain creature. She
had half a mind to walk on and leave her, without saying another word
to her. Indeed, Miss Kitty had turned aside to continue her stroll
towards the meadow when Henrietta Hen spoke to her again.
"Don't you think," Henrietta demanded, "that speckles should be worn
very small, like mine? Don't you think yours are too big?"
"I'd rather not talk with you," said Miss Kitty Cat. "I can see plainly
that we'd never agree."
"Oh, do stop for a while!" Henrietta Hen besought her. "I love a chat
with a cat," she added with a silly giggle.
Miss Kitty Cat was vexed. She thought that Henrietta Hen was a
tiresome person.
"Ill stop and have a chat with you," Miss Kitty relented, "for it's not
often that I meet a spotted hen. If my speckles are too big," she went on
in an icy tone, "it is just as true that your spots are altogether too
small."
"Spots!" Henrietta cackled. Like all empty-headed people, she was
quick to lose her temper. "Spots indeed! I'd have you know that I
haven't any spots. I'm a speckled beauty--that's what I am. And if you
don't believe it you can ask the Rooster."
"Perhaps I was mistaken," Miss Kitty Cat purred. "Anyhow, I'll take
your word about the Specks. I won't bother to ask the Rooster."

"Ah!" Henrietta Hen exclaimed. "You're afraid of him! You're afraid he
might want to fight you. And I wish he would," she screamed at Miss
Kitty, "for it's plain that you're no gentleman."
"Well--I should hope not!" Miss Kitty Cat gasped.
"I thought you were a gentleman, or I should never have spoken to
you," Henrietta Hen declared. "When I first saw you I said to myself,
'Here's a quiet, polite gentleman! It will be pleasant to have him living
at the farmhouse.' But I see that I was mistaken."
"You were!" cried Miss Kitty, who was--to say the least--greatly
astonished by Henrietta's odd remarks. "My name is Miss Kitty Cat.
And what made you think I was a gentleman is more than I can guess."
"Miss!" cried Henrietta. "Miss! Then why, pray tell me, do you wear
those whiskers?"
Try as she would, Miss Kitty could give no reason that satisfied
Henrietta Hen. And Henrietta always declared that Miss Kitty Cat was
a strange, strange person.

VI
BEECHNUT SHUCKS
ONCE in a while Frisky Squirrel paid a visit to Farmer Green's place.
Although he had learned that the farmyard was not without its dangers,
after one adventure Frisky was always sure to return, sometime, as if in
search of another.
So a certain fine, fall day found him scampering along the top of the
stone wall that followed the road as it dropped down the hill from the
woods to Farmer Green's front gate.
Old Mr. Crow, sailing lazily over the yellowing