Miss Laura always picked up the little,
dead creature, pitied it and stroked it, and scolded Malta till she
crept into a corner. Then Miss Laura put the bird on a limb of a tree,
and Malta watched her attentively from her corner.
One day Miss Laura stood at the window, looking out into the garden.
Malta was lying on the platform, staring at the sparrows that were
picking up crumbs from the ground. She trembled, and half rose every few
minutes, as if to go after them. Then she lay down again. She was trying
very hard not to creep on them. Presently a neighbor's cat came stealing
along the fence, keeping one eye on Malta and the other on the sparrows.
Malta was so angry! She sprang up and chased her away, and then came
back to the platform, where she lay down again and waited for the
sparrows to come back. For a long time she stayed there, and never once
tried to catch them.
Miss Laura was so pleased. She went to the door, and said, softly, "Come
here, Malta."
The cat put up her tail, and, meowing gently, came into the house. Miss
Laura took her up in her arms, and going down to the kitchen, asked Mary
to give her a saucer of her very sweetest milk for the best cat in the
United States of America.
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