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Kittyboy's Christmas

<h2 style="margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 2.5em;">CHAPTER II</h2> It was high noon when he turned toward home. He had forgotten all about Kittyboy, but when the confident little beastie came rubbing up against him, purring softly, the doctor smiled, as if a sudden thought had struck him, and stooping down, he rubbed Kittyboy's head; after which performance the artful little creature rolled over on his back, and turned his gold-colored eyes upon the doctor, inviting a frolic; then up and away he scudded, with arched back and curved tail, the very embodiment of a witch's familiar. "You little imp of darkness!" cried[23] the doctor. "Such capers in the house of a sober bachelor! You'll be occupying my bedroom next and calling it your own." A prediction which speedily came true, for that very night Kittyboy slyly crept up behind the doctor, and, hiding himself, craftily bided his time, and in the dead of night stole forth and curled himself up on the foot of the bed, waking the doctor in the morning by licking his hand with a red, rough, little tongue. And then followed wild, frantic gambols, dancing and prancing over everything; coquettings with the tassels of a dressing gown; tussles with a slipper; mock fears of a very innocent reflection in the glass; delicate tip-toeings about the dressing table, with attempts to pry into every box and drawer; then one leap into the air and a waltzing after a little black tail whose existence Kittyboy seemed only that[24] moment to have discovered. All this so entertained the doctor, that he lay in bed shaking with laughter at the absurd antics, and went down to breakfast with Kittyboy on his shoulder. After this it was evident that Kittyboy considered the second-story front bedroom as his own. To be sure he generously allowed Dr. Brewster to share it, to occupy the bed, if he were not in the middle of it; or the doctor might sit in any comfortable chair for which Kittyboy had no immediate use; but the lordly little creature took possession so absolutely that the doctor's sense of humor was greatly tickled by this overweening complacency and confidence, and he meekly took another chair when Kittyboy occupied the better one, or, indeed, moved over to the right side of the bed if Kittyboy preferred the left. [25] It was the evening of the day which had seen the doctor at the Post Office. It seemed to him that it had been many more than twenty-four hours since the sly little cat had followed him indoors, and had ingratiated himself into the good man's favor. Already the doctor was making a confidant of this same little waif. "What would you do about it, you little limb of Satan?" he asked, as he opened the letter he had so carefully put aside that morning. "Come, you shall decide. Let us see what sort of oracle you can make. You started this, anyhow, as I remember. Now get me out of it, if you can." Kittyboy winked soberly, as the doctor thus addressed him, but looked very wise, as if he knew much more than he proposed to tell. The doctor softly stroked the black[26] fur, which was less rough than it had been the day before. "Shall I go or not?" he asked. "You can advise, and then, like others in the same position, I'll do as I choose. Here is the letter." He shook it at the little creature, who grabbed it in both paws, rolled over with it once or twice, then taking it in his mouth he jumped down from the table and walked off with his prize to the chair where a soft felt hat of the doctor's was lying. Into this jumped Kittyboy, letter and all, and, curling himself up, looked with a knowing wink at the man who was watching him. <hr class="chap" style="page-break-after: always;" /> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/image3.jpg" width-obs="450" height-obs="559" alt="Into this jumped Kittyboy--Page 26" /></div> "Into this jumped Kittyboy"—Page 26] <hr class="chap" style="page-break-after: always;" /> "Nothing could be plainer," laughed the doctor. "Go is the word. Pick up your hat and its contents, you say. Here we are, take us and go. Such wisdom! For real out and out witchcraft, commend me to a black cat. Ah, Kittyboy, it is well you did not live in the time of those old[27] fellows, my ancestors, Wrastling Brewster and Preserved Fish, and the rest, or we'd both be strung up for practicing the black arts, although such names as they had were enough to choke them without hanging. "Well, my small wizard, go it is, since your suggestion suits my inclination; who knows? who knows?" He sat absently stroking the little cat, who had returned to the table, and it was evident that something had given him food for deep, and not altogether unpleasant, reflection, for the evening paper lay untouched, and the open fire seemed to hold the man's fixed attention. Was it Kittyboy's sorceries that caused past events to rise as flames from ashes, to add a new warmth to a half-chilled memory? The next morning it was that Dr. Brewster turned his steps toward a quiet[28] street in a modest quarter of the city. An open square gave a pleasant, airy appearance to the neighborhood. The sun was shining brightly, but the air was frosty, and the doctor stepped along briskly. His footsteps did not falter until he reached the house, 610 West Twelfth Street, and then for a moment he paused, taking off his hat and wiping his brow as if it were a warm day. Immediately after, however, he mounted the steps with a firm step and gave the bell a vigorous pull. It was answered by a neat maid, who paused expectantly for the card, which the doctor did not produce. "Tell Mrs. Temple a friend wishes to see her," was his message. He was ushered into a small room, which was warm and cosy. A fire glowed in a Baltimore heater. There were pretty, tasteful articles scattered about, which gave the room a cheerful, homelike look.[29] The doctor picked up a book from the table, put it down again, nervously took two or three turns up and down the floor, and finally stationed himself, with his hands behind him, at one of the windows, fixing his eyes upon the street. Presently some one entered, and a soft voice said, "You wished to see me?" The doctor turned abruptly, and held out his hand to the tall, fair woman who stood before him. "Elinor," he said,—the color mounted to the lady's cheek,—"Dr. Brewster," she faltered. "How—where did you learn of me?" "At the club," replied the doctor, gravely and truthfully. "It is truly good to see an old friend," continued Mrs. Temple. "You know—you have heard." "I know nothing but that you are here," answered the doctor. [30] "My husband died two years ago," went on Mrs. Temple. "He was very good to me, and he idolized our little daughter." Her eyes dropped before the doctor's earnest gaze, but they had already told that which the doctor had for so many years longed to know, whether in marrying big, wealthy, dissipated Captain Temple, Elinor Arsquith had pleased merely herself, or whether to spare her father's good name she had sacrificed her girlhood. He drew in his breath quickly, and for a moment no word was spoken between them. "And your little girl?" asked the doctor, breaking the silence. "She is with me here. I lost two little ones in Texas, and Elinor is all I have left. I felt that for her sake I must seek a different climate, and that is why I am here." At that moment the curtains before the[31] door parted, and a small figure appeared. A solemn-faced little midget, about six years old, clasping to her breast a battered doll, stood before them. "Come in, dear, and speak to the doctor," Mrs. Temple said, glad of an interruption to a conversation which was becoming embarrassing. The little one advanced slowly, till she stood by the doctor's side. "Must I put out my tongue?" she asked. The doctor smiled. "No, I think I wouldn't. It's pretty cold for even a tongue to be out to-day." The child laughed merrily. "I wanted to go and buy mamma a little bunch of vi'lets, but she said I would freeze my nose off, and I wouldn't be pretty without any nose, would I?" Then, glancing down at her dilapidated, noseless doll, she looked a little abashed. "Excuse me, Lily," she[32] said gravely; "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I love you just as much as if you had as big a nose as the doctor's. I didn't have any money in my bank, anyhow," she continued, "and mamma could not spare any five centses. You know we aren't rich any more. I 'spect the flowers are frozen up, anyway." "I'll get the violets for you," said the doctor, without looking at Mrs. Temple. "I know a nice, warm place where they live, and if you'll trust me I think I can find some fresh, sweet ones." Elinor clasped her hands. "You're very nice," she assured him. "And if you won't give me any nasty medicine, I'll love you very much." "I promise no nasty medicine," agreed the doctor, and their friendship was sealed. So well did it proceed that when the doctor took his leave, an hour later, Elinor[33] hugged him frantically, saying, "Doctor, come to-morrow. I get so lonely, and so does mamma. I wish you'd come every day," and the doctor's smile answered the suggestion. "Mamma," said the child, after the doctor had left them, "is that a very nice man?" "Why, darling; yes—of course—yes—he is very nice." "I fought so," she returned confidently. "Is he very 'spensive?" "Oh, you mean—wealthy. I think so, enough so, at all events. What funny questions. Why do you want to know?" "Just 'cause I like to ask funny questions. Mamma, do you like bread?" "Why, you midget, you are just asking questions to tease your mudder. You know I like bread." [34] Elinor laughed gleefully, and looked down at her doll. "Lily told me a secret to-day," she said, "and she won't let me tell till Christmas. It's a very nice one, but I can't tell you, mamma." "Very well. I will wait till Christmas." "Don't you want to know it?" the child asked, anxiously. "Not if you don't want to tell it." "But I do, only Lily won't let me. Mamma, this morning I was a kitten." "You were? I didn't discover it." "I was. I had a red ribbon round my neck, and I was black, and Lily was Elinor Temple, and she played with me. See where I scratched her. Do you want me to be a kitten for you, mamma?" "Not if you scratch, nor if you have to turn black." That amused Elinor greatly. [35] "I doesn't have to. I've just make-believe claws. Mamma, are you going to take me to church on Christmas?" "Why, of course. Don't you want to go?" "I didn't last Sunday; it was so long. The man in the white gown said so much. I fink he was a chatterbox." "Why, Elinor! what a thing to say about the good rector." "Well, mamma, it is what you say about me when I talk a long time, and you love me." Mrs. Temple smiled. "Then you don't want to go to church on Christmas?" "Oh, but I do; I like to hear the little boys sing, and I like to see the green things, but——" "You get tired sitting so long?" "Oh, no, mamma; I couldn't get tired; I get too much rested." [36] "I see. Well, dearie, we will go to the early service, which is not so long." "And then come home and have the Santa Claus part of it for dessert; that will be nice. I wish the doctor would come soon; I want to ask him somefing." The doctor did come soon. Indeed, there was scarcely a day after this which did not see his stalwart form turning into the quiet street, and the affection between the grave man and the pretty child grew apace, so that many confidences passed between them. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG style="margin-top: 7em; margin-bottom: 10em;" src="images/image8.jpg" width-obs="100" height-obs="112" alt="End of chapter illustration" /></div> <hr class="chap" /> [37] <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG style="margin-top: 3em;" src="images/image9.jpg" width-obs="450" height-obs="146" alt="Chapter illustration" /></div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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