Miss Ruth found on her table the next Wednesday afternoon a note very neatly and carefully written, which read as follows:

Miss RUTH, Will you Please tell us Another Cat Story, becaus I
like them best. So does Fannie Eldridge she said So after You told
Worm stories.

Miss Ruth I Have Named my Black Kitty After your Dinah Diamond, her
Last Name has to Be Spot Becaus her Spot is not a Diamond, this is
from your Friend.

NELLIE DIMOCK.

“I hold in my hand,” Miss Ruth said, when she had carefully perused this epistle, “a written request from two members of our Society for another cat story. Susie and Mollie, have I any more cat stories worth telling?”

“Yes, indeed, Auntie” said Mollie. “Don’t you remember the pretty fairy story you used to tell us about the good little girl who saved a cat from being drowned by some bad boys, and carried her home? and she turned out to be a fairy cat and gave that girl every thing she wished for cakes and candy, and a lovely pink silk frock packed in a nutshell for her to wear to the party?”

“O Mollie! that’s too much of a baby story,” said Susie. “Tell us about the musical cat who played the piano by walking over the keys, and all the people in the house thought it was a ghost.”

“Yes, Auntie; and the funny story of the cat and the parrot how the parrot got stuck up to her knees in a pan of dough, and in her fright said over every thing she had learned to say: ‘Polly wants a cracker!’ ‘Oh, my goodness’ sakes alive!’ ‘Get out, I say!’ ‘Here’s a row!’ ’Scat, you beast!’ and so on; and how the cat got her out.”

“These are old stories, girls, and you have told them for me.”

“Our old cat Jane,” said Eliza Ann Jones, “is a regular cheat. You see, she would lie in grandma’s chair. She used to jump in if grandma left it only for a minute; and grandma wouldn’t know she was there, and two or three times sat right down on her. Why, it was just awful, and scared poor grandma half to death. Well, ma whipped the old cat every time she caught her in the chair, and we thought she was cured of the habit; but one day ma came into the room and there was nobody there but Jane, and she was stretched on the rug and seemed to be fast asleep; but grandma’s chair was rocking away all by itself. Ma wondered what made the chair go, so she thought she’d watch. She left the door on a crack and peeped through, and as soon as the cat thought she was alone she jumped into the chair and settled herself for a nap; but when ma made a little noise, as if somebody were coming out, she hopped out and stretched herself on the rug and made believe she was fast asleep. ’Twas her jumping out so quick that set the chair rocking. Now, wasn’t that cute?”

“I never knew till the other day,” said Florence Austin, “that cats scatter crumbs to attract the birds, and then watch for them and spring out on the poor things when they are feeding.”

“What a shame! I wouldn’t keep a cat who played such a cruel trick,” Mollie said.

“My Dinah Spot doesn’t catch birds or chickens,” said Nellie Dimock; “only mice.”

Mrs. Elliot had come in with a message to her sister while this talk went on, and had lingered to hear Eliza’s story of old Jane.

“Girls,” she said, “with your President’s permission, I will tell you a story about a cat. It is curious, because it proves that a cat remembers and reasons much as a man or woman would in similar circumstances. Susie and Mollie, I have told it to you before, but you will not mind hearing it again.

“When my brother Charles was a young man he kept a bachelor establishment in the country, and with other pets owned a beautiful gray cat he had; brought with him from Germany. She was very intelligent and docile, a great favorite with her master, and was allowed many privileges in the house. She came in and out through a small door cut in the side of the house which she opened and closed for herself. A chair was regularly placed for her at the table; she slept at the foot of my brother’s bed, and perched herself on his shoulder when he took a stroll in the garden. She could distinguish the sound of his bell from any other in the house, and was greatly disturbed if the servant delayed in answering his call.

“One summer my sister Helen and her two boys were staying with Charles, and in the midst of the visit he was called away on business, and was absent for several weeks. Now, Carl and Teddy were dear little fellows, but full of mischief; and in their uncle’s absence they so teased and tormented poor Miess, taking advantage of her amiable disposition, that she was forced at length to keep out of their way. About a week before Charles came home she had kittens, which she carefully hid behind a heavy book-case in the library.

“The morning of his return he had the cat in his lap petting and caressing her as usual, and then went out for an hour. As soon as he was gone, pussy brought her kittens one by one from their hiding-place and laid them on the rug in the corner of the room where she had nursed and tended all her young families before. Now she must have reasoned in this way: ’My good, kind master has come home, and those dreadful boys who have pinched my ears and tied things to my tail, and teased and frightened me almost to death, will be made to behave themselves. All danger to me and to my babies is over. Why must the pretty dears be hidden away in that musty place? Of course master wants to see them, and they are well worth looking at. The thing for me to do is to bring them out of that dark hole and put them where I always have put my kittens before.’”

“Wise old Miess!” said Mollie. “Mamma, please tell the girls how she saved uncle’s pet canary from a strange cat.”

“Yes, dear. Miess was so obedient and well trained that her master often trusted her in the room while he gave the bird his airing, and Bobby became so accustomed to the cat’s presence that he hopped fearlessly about the floor close to pussy’s rug, and more than once lighted on her back; but one day your uncle discovered Miess on the table with the bird in her mouth. For an instant he thought her cat nature had got the upper hand, and that Bobby’s last moment had come; then he discovered a strange cat in the room and knew that his good cat had saved the canary’s life. As soon as the intruder was driven out, Bobby fluttered away safe and sound.”

“Wasn’t that nice of Miess, Auntie?” said Susie. “I have thought of a story for you to tell us this afternoon the story of the barn-cat that wanted so much to become a house-cat. Don’t you remember that story you used to tell us long ago?”

“Oh, yes!” Mollie said; “her name was Furry-Purry, and she lived with Granny Barebones, and there was Tom Tom some thing; what was his name? Tell us that, Aunt Ruth, do!”

“Isn’t it open to the objection you made to Mollie’s choice a while ago, Susie?” she asked. “I remember it went with ‘The Three Bears’ and ’Old Mother Pig’ and ‘The Little Red Hen.’”

“No, Auntie, I think not; it’s different, somehow.”

“Very well, then, if you are sure you haven’t outgrown it.”

“Is it a true story?” Nellie Dimock wanted to know.

“It is made out of a true story, Nellie. A young cat which was born and brought up in a barn became dissatisfied with her condition in life, and made up her mind to change it. She chose the house of a friend of mine for her future home, and presented herself every morning at the door, asking in a very earnest and humble way to be taken in. When driven away she went sadly and reluctantly, but in a few moments was back again waiting patiently, quietly, hour after hour, day after day. If noticed or spoken to, she gave a plaintive mew, looked cold and hungry, but showed no signs of discouragement. She didn’t once try to steal into the house, as she might have done, but waited patiently for an invitation.

“And when one morning she brought a mouse and laid it on the door-step, and looking up, seemed to say: ’Kind lady, if you will take me for your cat, see what I will do for you,’ my friend could no longer refuse. The door was opened, the long-wished-for invitation was given, and very soon the little barn-cat became the pet and plaything of the family. She proved a valuable family cat, and her descendants, to the fourth generation, are living in my friend’s family to-day.

“Out of these materials I have dressed up the story of

HOW FURRY-PURRY BECAME GOLD ELSIE.

“The door of the great house stood open and Furry-Purry looked in.

“Furry-Purry was a small yellow cat striped down the back with a darker shade of the same color. Her paws, the lower part of her body, and the spot on her breast were white.

“This is what the little cat saw, looking through the open door into the great house:

“A pleasant room hung with pictures, the floor covered with a soft carpet, where all kinds of bright-colored flowers seemed to be growing, and, in the sunniest corner, lying in an arm-chair piled with cushions, a large tabby cat.

“Just then a gust of wind closed the door, and Furry-Purry ran round the house to the barn and remained all day hidden in her hole under the boards.

“That night there was a storm, and several cats in the neighborhood crept into the barn for safety. There was old Mrs. Barebones, a cat with a bad cough, which was thought to be in a decline; Tom Skip-an’-jump, a sprightly young fellow with a tenor voice which he was fond of using on moonlight nights; and Robber Grim, a fierce, one-eyed creature the pest of the neighborhood with a great head and neck and flabby, hanging cheeks and bare spots on his tawny coat where the fur had been torn out in his fierce battles.

“The thunder roared overhead and the lightning, shining through the cracks, played on the barn floor and showed the cats sitting gravely in a circle. Only Tom Skip-an’-jump, who still kept his kittenish tricks, went frisking after his tail and turning somersaults in the hay. Presently he tumbled over Furry-Purry and bit her ear.

“‘Come, play!’ said he: ‘it’s a jolly time for puss-in-the-corner.’

“‘Tom,’ said Furry-Purry, ’I never shall play again. I am very unhappy. I have seen Mrs. Tabitha Velvetpaw lying on a silk cushion, while I make my bed in the hay. She walks on a lovely soft carpet, and I have only this barn floor. O Tom, I want to be a house-cat.’

“‘A house-cat!’ repeated Tom disdainfully. ’They sleep all day. They get their tails pulled and their ears pinched by horrid monsters with only two legs to walk on, and nights beautiful moonlight nights when we barn-cats are roaming the alleys and singing on the roofs and having a good time generally they are locked in cellars and garrets and made to watch rat-holes. Oh, no! not for Tom.’

“He was off with a whisk of his tail to the highest beam in the barn, looking down on them with the greenest of green eyes, and singing,

’Some love the home
Of a lazy drone,
And a bed on a cushioned knee;
But in wild free ways
I will spend my days,
And at night on the roofs I’ll be.

Oh, ’tis my delight,
On a moonlight night’

“‘Don’t listen to him, my dear,’ said Mrs. Barebones, the consumptive cat; ’he’s a wild, thoughtless creature, quite inexperienced in the ways of the world. Heed the counsels of one whose sands of life are almost run and who, before she goes to the land of cats, would fain warn a youthful friend and, if possible, avert her from her own sad fate. This racking cough (ugh! ugh!) and this distressing cat-arrh, (snuff! snuff!) with which you see me afflicted were brought on by the hardships and exposure incident to the life of a barn-cat: midnight rambles, my dear (ugh!), in frost and snow; days when not so much as a mouse’s tail has passed my hungry jaws, and winter nights when my coat was too thin to keep out the cold. And all these sufferings, past and present, are in consequence of my being a barn-cat.’

“‘Now, may the dogs get me, if I ever heard such a string of nonsense!’ said Robber Grim. ’Don’t believe a word she says. She’s an old granny. She’s got the fidgets. She wants a dose of catnip-tea. Don’t believe Tom Skip-an’-jump, either. What does he know about war? He never was shot at. Look at me! I’m Robber Grim! I’m an old one, I am! I’ve got good blood in my veins. My great-grandfather was a catamount and his grandmother was a tiger-cat. I’ve been in a hundred battles. I’ve had one eye knocked out and an ear bit off. I left a piece of my tail in a trap. I’ve been scalded with hot water and peppered all over with shot. I’ll teach you how to get a living without being a house-cat. I hate houses and the people who live in them, and I do them all the mischief I can. I eat up their chickens and I suck their eggs. I climb in at the pantry window and skim their milk. Once when the cook left the kitchen door open I snatched the beefsteak from the gridiron and made off with the family dinner. They hate me they do. They’ve tried to kill me a dozen times; but I’m Robber Grim, ha! ha! and I’ve got nine lives!’

“At this instant there came a flash of lightning, followed by a peal of thunder that shook the barn to its foundations, and every cat fled in terror to its hole.

“The next morning Mrs. Tabitha Velvetpaw took a stroll round the garden and down the lane a little way, where the catnip grew. The ground was wet after the shower, and she was daintily picking her way along, very careful not to soil her beautiful feet, of which she was justly proud, when suddenly there glided from behind a tree and stood directly in her path a small yellow cat.

“‘Oh, my paws and whiskers!’ exclaimed Mrs. Tabitha, surprised out of her usual dignity.

“‘If you please,’ said Furry-Purry, for it was she, ’I have made bold to come out and meet you to ask your advice. I am a poor little barn-cat, and I was contented with my lot till I saw you yesterday in your beautiful home; but now I feel that I was intended for a higher sphere. Tell me oh, tell me, Mrs. Velvetpaw, how I may become a house-cat!’

“‘Well, did I ever!’ said Mrs. Velvetpaw. ‘The idea!’ and she moved a step or two away from poor Furry-Purry, her manner, as well as her words, expressing astonishment and disdain.

“’I know it seems presuming, Mrs. Velvetpaw, but’

“’Presuming! I should say so. What is this generation of cats coming to, when a low creature reared in a barn a paw-paw (pauper) cat, as I may say dare lift her eyes to those so far above her?’

“‘I have heard my mother say “a cat may look at a king,"’ said Furry-Purry.

“’Go away, you low-born creature! How dare you quote your mother to me? Go away, this instant! I am ashamed to be seen talking with you! What if my friend Mrs. Silvercoat or Major Mouser should happen to pass! Begone, I say! scat!’

“‘O Mrs. Tabitha,’ said the poor little cat, ’don’t send me away! I can’t go back to that barn. Indeed, indeed, after spending this short time in your company, I can never endure to live with Tom Skip-an’-jump and Mrs. Barebones and that horrid Robber Grim. If you refuse to help me I will go straight to Growler’s kennel. When he has worried me to death, won’t you be sorry you drove me to such a fate? Dear, dear Mrs. Velvetpaw, your face is kinder than your words. Oh, pity the sorrows of a poor little cat!’

“Now, Mrs. Tabitha was not at heart an ill-natured puss; and when she saw Furry-Purry’s imploring face, and listened to her eloquent appeal, she was moved with compassion.

“‘Rather than see you go to the dogs,’ said she, ’I will lend a paw to help you. But what can I do, you silly thing?’

“‘Mrs. Velvetpaw, you have lived a long time in this neighborhood?’

“‘All my life, Yellow Cat.’

“‘And you know every body?’

“’If you mean in the first rank of society yes. Your Barebones, and Hop-an’-jumps, and creatures of that vulgar herd, are quite out of my category.’

“‘Perhaps you know of some house-cat dead or gone away?’

“‘And if I do?’

“‘You might put me in her place, you know.’

“‘Yellow Cat,’ said Mrs. Tabitha, severely.

“‘If you please, my name is Furry-Purry.’

“’Well, Furry-Purry, then. Your presumption can only be pardoned in consideration of your ignorance of the usages of society. House-cats, you must know, hold their position in families by hereditary descent. My place, for instance, was my mother’s and my grandmother’s before me. We are prepared by birth and education for the position we occupy. Have you considered how utterly unfitted you are for the life to which you aspire? I am sorry to disappoint you, but I fear your hopes are vain. There is, indeed, a vacancy in the brick house opposite. Caesar a venerable cat died last week. He was much admired for his gentlemanly and dignified deportment. “Who shall come after the king?"’

“’I, Mrs. Tabitha, I’

“‘You, indeed!’ she interrupted, scornfully.

“’Oh, yes, if you will but condescend to give me instructions. I am quick to learn. The short time I have been so happy as to be in your company I have gained much knowledge. I am sure I can imitate the mew-sic of your voice. I know I can gently wave my tail, and touch my left whisker with my paw as you do. When I leave you I shall spend every moment till we meet again in practising your airs and graces, till I make them all my own. Dear friend, if you will let me call you so, help me to King Caesar’s place.’

“There was much that was flattering to Mrs. Velvetpaw in this speech.

“‘Well,’ said she, ’I will see what can be done. There, go home now, and the first thing to be done is to make yourself perfectly clean. Wash yourself twelve times in the day, from the end of your nose to the tip of your tail. Take particular pains with your paws. A cat of refinement is known by the delicacy and cleanliness of her feet. Farewell! After three days, meet me here again.’

“You can imagine how faithfully Furry-Purry followed these directions how with her sharp tongue she smoothed and stroked every hair of her pretty coat, and washed her face again and again with her wet paws.

“‘You are wretchedly thin!’ Mrs. Tabitha said at their next meeting. ’That fault can only be remedied by a generous diet. You must look me full in the face when I talk to you. Really, you have no need to be ashamed of your eyes, for they are decidedly bright and handsome. When you walk, don’t bend your legs till your body almost touches the ground. That gives you a wretchedly hang-cat appearance. Tread softly and daintily, but with dignity and grace of carriage. There must be other bad habits I have not mentioned.’

“‘I am afraid I spit sometimes.’

“’Don’t do that it is considered vulgar. Don’t bristle your tail. Don’t show your claws except to mice. Keep such control over yourself as never to be surprised out of a dignified composure of manner.’

“Just here, without the slightest warning, there rushed from the thicket near them a large fierce-looking dog. Up went Mrs. Velvetpaw’s back in an arch. Every hair of her body stood on end. Sharp-pointed claws protruded from each velvet foot, and, hissing and spitting, she tumbled over Furry-Purry in her haste, and scrambled to the topmost branch of the pear-tree. The little cat followed, imitating her guide in every particular. As for the dog, which was in pursuit of game, he did not even look at them; and when he was out of sight they came down from the tree, Mrs. Tabitha descending with the dignified composure she had just recommended to her young friend. She made no allusion to her hurried ascent.

“‘To-morrow night,’ said she, ’as soon as it is dark, meet me in the backyard of the brick house.’

“Half glad and half frightened, Furry-Purry walked by her side the next evening, delighting in the soft green turf of the yard and the sweet-smelling shrubs against which she ventured to rub herself as they passed. Mrs. Tabitha led her round the house to a piazza draped with clustering vines.

“‘Come here to-morrow,’ said she. ’Walk boldly up the steps and seat yourself in full view of that window. Look your prettiest behave your best. Assume a pensive expression of countenance, with your eyes uplifted so. If you are driven away, go directly, but return. Be strong, be brave, be persevering. Now, my dear, I have done all I can for you, and I wish you good luck,’

“The next morning a little girl living in the brick house, whose name was Winnie Gay, looked out of the dining-room window.

“‘Come quick, mamma!’ she called; ’here’s a cat on our piazza a little yellow cat, and she’s looking right up at me. May I open the door?’

“‘No, indeed!’ said Mrs. Gay; ‘we want no strange cats here.’

“’But she looks hungry, mamma. She has just opened her mouth at me without making a bit of noise. Can’t I give her a saucer of milk?’

“’Come away from the window, Winnie, and don’t notice her. You will only encourage her to come again. There, pussy, run away home; we can’t have you here.’

“’Now, mamma, you have frightened her. See how she keeps looking back. I’m afraid you’ve hurt her feelings. Dear little pussy! I wish I might call you back.’

“Furry-Purry was not discouraged at this her first unsuccessful attempt. The child’s blue eyes beamed a welcome, and the lady’s face was gentle and kind.

“‘If I catch a mouse,’ thought the cat, ’and bring it to them to show what I can do, perhaps I shall gain their favor.’ Then she put away all the fine airs and graces Mrs. Velvetpaw had taught her, and became the sly, supple, watchful creature nature had made her. By a hole in the granary she crouched and waited with unwearied patience one, two, almost three, hours. Then she gave a sudden spring, there was one sharp little shriek from the victim, a snap of pussy’s jaws, and her object was accomplished. She appeared again on the piazza, and, laying a dead mouse on the floor, crouched beside it in an attitude of perfect grace, and looked beseechingly in Mrs. Gay’s face.

“‘Well, you are a pretty creature!’ that lady said, ’with your soft white paws and yellow coat,’

“‘May I have her for my cat, mamma?’ Winnie said. ’I thought I never should love another cat when dear old Caesar died; but this little thing is such a beauty that I love her already. May I have her for mine?’

“But while Mrs. Gay hesitated, Furry-Purry, who could not hear what they said, and who, to tell the truth, was in a great hurry to eat her mouse, ran off with it to the barn. The next morning, however, she came again, and Mr. Gay, who was waiting for his breakfast, was called to the window.

“’My cat has come again, papa, with another mouse a monstrous one, too.’

“‘That isn’t a mouse,’ Mr. Gay said, looking at the plump, silver-gray creature Furry-Purry carefully deposited on the piazza-floor. ’Bless me! I believe it is that rascal of a mole that’s gnawed my hyacinth and tulip bulbs. I offered the gardener’s boy two dollars if he would catch the villain. To whom does that cat belong, Winnie? She’s worth her weight in gold.’

“’I don’t believe she belongs to anybody, papa; but I think she wants to belong to us, for she keeps coming and coming. May I have her for mine? I am sure mamma will say yes if you are willing.’

“‘Why not?’ said he. ’Run for a saucer of milk, and we will coax her in.’

“We who are acquainted with Furry-Purry’s private history know how little coaxing was needed.

“As soon as the door was opened she walked in, and, laying the dead mole at Mr. Gay’s feet, rubbed herself against his leg, purred gently, looked up into his face with her round bright eyes, and, in very expressive cat language, claimed him for her master. When he stooped to caress her, and praised and petted her for the good service she had rendered him, the happy creature rolled over and over on the soft carpet in an ecstasy of delight.

“Then Winnie clapped her hands for joy.

“‘You are our own cat,’ she said. ’You shall have sugar and cream to eat. You shall lie on Caesar’s silk cushion; and because you are yellow, and papa says you are worth your weight in gold, your name shall be Gold Elsie,’

“So Furry-Purry became a family cat.

“The first time she met Mrs. Velvetpaw after this change in her life, that excellent tabby looked at her with evident admiration.

“‘How handsome you have grown!’ said she; ’your eyes are topaz, your breast and paws are the softest velvet, your coat is spun gold. My dear, you are the belle of cats,’

“‘Dear Mrs. Velvetpaw,’ said Gold Elsie, ’my beauty and my prosperity I owe in large measure to you. But for your wise counsels I should still be a’

“’Hush! don’t speak the word. My dear, never again allude to your origin. It is a profound secret. You are received in the best society. Mrs. Silvercoat tells me it is reported that your master sought far and wide to find a worthy successor to King Caesar, and that he esteems himself specially fortunate in that, after great labor and expense, he procured you. The ignorance you sometimes exhibit of the customs of genteel society is attributed to your foreign breeding.’

“’Mrs. Tabitha, I feel at times a strong desire to visit my old friends in the barn once more.’

“‘Let me entreat you, my dear Miss Elsie, never again to think of it.’

“’But there is poor Mrs. Barebones almost gone with a consumption. I should like to show her some kindness.’

“‘Her sufferings are ended. She has passed to the land of cats,’

“’Poor Mrs. Barebones! and Robber Grim? Do you happen to have heard any thing of him?’

“Silently Mrs. Tabitha beckoned her to follow, and, leading the way to the orchard, pointed to a sour-apple tree, where Gold Elsie beheld a ghastly sight. By a cord tied tightly about his neck, his jaws distended, his one eye starting from its socket, hung Robber Grim stiff, motionless, dead.

“They hurried away, and presently Gold Elsie timidly inquired after her former playmate, Tom Skip-an’-jump.

“‘Don’t, my dear!’ said Mrs. Velvetpaw; ’really, I can not submit to be farther catechized. If you are truly grateful to me, Elsie, for the service I have rendered you, and wish to do me credit in the high position to which I have raised you, you must, you certainly must, break every tie that binds you to your former life.’

“‘I will, Mrs. Tabitha, I will,’ said the little cat; and never again in Mrs. Velvetpaw’s presence did she mention Tom Skip-an’-jump’s name,”

“And didn’t she ever see him again?” Nellie Dimock wanted to know. “I am sure there was no harm in Tom.”

“Well, but you know she couldn’t go with that set any more after she had got into good society,” said Mollie Elliot.

“Mollie has caught Mrs. Velvetpaw’s exact tone,” said Florence Austin, at which all the girls laughed.

“Well, I don’t care,” Mollie answered; “she was a nice little cat, and deserved all her good fortune.”