Little Sally’s Animal Story
“Do you know any stories?” was the first thing Jimmy said to his little cousin visitor.
“I do,” said Sally, smiling. “What kind do you like best?”
“All the kinds,” said Jimmy promptly. “Do you know any about animals?”
“I do,” said Sally. “I know a first-rate one about my own cat.”
“Tell it, now,” said Jimmy.
“I will,” said Sally. “I will begin it right now.”
Jimmy came around in front where he could “see every word.” “Begin!” said he.
“I am beginning,” said Sally. “My cat is just as old as I am. We were kittens together. Mama says she used to rock us in the cradle. One of the first things I remember, Jimmy, is my cat. She is a very big gray cat with a ringed coon tail.”
“Got a name?” asked Jimmy.
“She has. Big Betsey. Big Betsey goes to the country in summer. Mama wouldn’t think of leaving her behind to look out for herself. And we think, Jimmy, that Big Betsey always knows on what day we shall start. We think, Jimmy, that she understands a great many words that we say.
“Last summer she had a very smart handsome kitten, a great pet with us all, and we think Big Betsey understood us when we said we did not think the kitten could be taken too. The morning we were to start, when Mama went upstairs, there in one of the trunks lay Big Betsey’s kitten, and there Big Betsey stood packing her as nicely as possible, standing up on her back feet and tucking her in with her paws! Did you ever hear of such a thing, Jimmy?”
“No,” said Jimmy, “I didn’t. Did the kitten go?”
“She did,” said Sally.
“In the trunk? O, I hope she did—please, cousin Sally, please say she did!” entreated Jimmy.
“She’d have smothered, Jimmy, all locked in where she couldn’t get any fresh air to breathe. She and Big Betsey went in a basket, and had part of my seat. This is The End, Jimmy.”
“It’s a very nice animal story,” said Jimmy.
M. Dunleath.