I have seen her standing at the back door whistling for
Malta, and the pretty creature's head would appear somewhere--always
high up, for she was a great climber, and she would come running along
the top of the fence, saying, "Meow, meow," in a funny, short way.
Miss Laura would pet her, or give her something to eat, or walk around
the garden carrying her on her shoulder. Malta was a most affectionate
cat, and if Miss Laura would not let her lick her face, she licked her
hair with her little, rough tongue. Often Malta lay by the fire, licking
my coat or little Billy's, to show her affection for us.
Mary, the cook, was very fond of cats, and used to keep Malta in the
kitchen as much as she could, but nothing would make her stay down there
if there was any music going on upstairs. The Morris pets were all fond
of music. As soon as Miss Laura sat down to the piano to sing or play,
we came from all parts of the house. Malta cried to get upstairs, Davy
scampered through the hall, and Bella hurried after him. If I was
outdoors I ran in the house, and Jim got on a box and looked through the
window.
Davy's place was on Miss Laura's shoulder, his pink nose run in the
curls at the back of her neck.
Pages:
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111