Part 2

"Perhaps half asleep, but I forget. The kitten would then watch where the ball fell, waiting till it stopped rolling. She would never touch it until it got to a considerable distance from her. Then she would suddenly dart upon a hassock or a footstool close by it, and fiercely gaze down upon it. After a while, she would stretch out one paw, and set it rolling, and, as it rolled, crawl after it, crouching low down to the ground.

"Suddenly a pounce, and a little squeak of delight: 'The ball is mine,' she thinks, and begins to play with it. She tosses it to and fro, now biting it, now patting it--preparatory, no doubt, to swallowing it.

"But do not be too sure, Miss Pussy! See, the ball flies from her, as if possessed with life. It rolls away, on and on. And Pussy, who had thought it dead, seems struck with wonder. 'Can it be alive after all?' she thinks; 'there must be a mouse inside it!' then scamper, scamper, a spring and a leap, and she has caught the ball again. Once more it escapes from her claws--once more she bounds towards it, and now it is surely hers. I confess it was rather interesting to me to look on, and more than once I nearly joined in the chase after the ball myself. Then Pussy would roll about on the floor with it, but never did she find a mouse inside it. Poor Pussy, every day she deceived herself thus! Then I would laugh to myself. Cats are such silly aimless things! They have no higher motives than a soft ball!"

"Yes," said Miss Perkie, "but isn't it time you began your story?"

"That is my story, you simpleton!" answered King Charlie.

"Oh, I did not know that: it was not much like one, you know."

"Eh? I call it a capital story. But now it is your turn again, unless Miss Nelly will tell us one?" he said, and turned to me.

"I don't know many stories of cats' and dogs' adventures; but I will describe a walk I once took with the dog I had before you, Charlie, if you like."

And I began: "His name was Tim, and he was a Pomeranian dog. Everybody liked him, and he liked everybody and everything excepting cats. He never harmed _our_ cats, though--it was before your time, Perkie--and never used even to worry them. But he could not abide strange cats. His greatest enemy was a big black tom, that lived quite near here. He is dead now, killed by Tim, and I am going to tell you how it all happened.

"One day we were out for our morning walk--just as _we_ go now, Charlie--when he spied this hated cat perched up on a high rock that overhung the lane. He was peering down at us, and I suppose he thought we should not see him. But 'Tim's eyes looked everywhere when we were out together,' I used to say. At any rate, he saw his enemy up there at once, and made after him at full speed. The frightened cat did not seem to know what to do, and in his flurry did the worst thing he could have done. Behind him stretched a field of barley, and the foolish animal rushed straight into it. I called to Tim, but he did not hear, or pretended not to.

"The next thing I saw was Tim coming along, wagging his tail, the tom-cat dead between his teeth.

"I scolded Tim, and beat him; but he could not understand that he had not done a very virtuous deed. For my own part, I was not sorry the cat had been killed; he was a great nuisance in the neighbourhood, and often used to steal our chickens. So I could not find the heart to give Tim all the beating he deserved; and when he stood up on his hind-legs, half-sorrowfully, half-beseechingly, looking into my face, I felt that he had only acted according to his nature, and that what was wrong in us to do might not be a sin in him. Therefore I took the dear old dog back again into my favour, and forgave him his disobedience in not coming when I called him. The darling old fellow bore me no spite, and soon he was gambolling along again at my side, as though nothing had happened."

"Quite right, quite right!" interposed King Charlie at this point; "but go on with the story."

"We walked on until we came to a farm-yard," I continued. "All of a sudden Tim rushed forward, then back again to me, barking loudly, as though mad.

"'What is it, Tim? What is it? Good dog! good fellow!' I cried to him, but no good; he seemed distracted about something.

"Then I looked in the direction in which he was barking, and there I saw on the steps of the barn a large toy-lamb, which some children must have left behind them. On its back a bird was perched. The poor dickie had made a mistake; he thought, no doubt, it was a real lamb! And Tim, too, who had never seen such an extraordinary sight before, was astonished beyond measure, and resented what he thought was meant for a personal insult to himself.

"He scrambled under the wooden fence that surrounded the farm-yard, and hurried towards the terrible object.

"'Come back--here, Tim--Tim!' I shouted after him, but in vain: the bird had flown from the lamb's back, and the lamb was already torn to tatters by the furious dog.

"Then he came back to me, barking 'See how I have treated the impostor!'

"But I did not see with his eyes. I whipped him again, and after having given the woman at the farm enough money to buy another lamb, I took him home. Two misbehaviours in one walk I thought quite enough.

"Poor old Tim! he died soon afterwards, and then you came, you know, Charlie. That's all my story. I love to recall my memories of dear old Tim; but I am afraid I've not interested you two much."

"No, not much, as far as I am concerned," rudely answered King Charles. I did not mean it, but I had made him very jealous by the love I had shown for Tim. I could not therefore take offence at his rude answer, especially as His Majesty had always been petted and spoilt so much.

"It is Perkie's turn now to tell her other story," he added.

"I am ready," said Pussy, and began at once: "As I said before, my story shall be about the same three dogs, and how they tried to catch a mouse. I heard it from the mouse's own lips--I'll tell you how, later on--so it must be true!

"The lazy dogs were, as usual, snoring in the kitchen of the house to which they belonged. A little mouse peeped her head out of a hole, and saw them asleep. 'Surely,' she thought,--'surely I can get onto the table without waking them.' So she tried.

"She reached the table without a sound, and the dogs still snored on peacefully. To mount the leg of the table, and to climb up among the dishes and glass were but the matter of a moment to her. Then she set to work. As she tasted the nice, fresh cheese, she quite forgot all about her enemies, the dogs. She clattered the plates, and made such a noise, that they soon started from their sleep.

"'A mouse! a mouse on the table!' they cried, and rushed towards it.

"'I am, anyhow, safe up here,' thought mousie, and nibbled on.

"The dogs soon grew weary of waiting below, and consulted together as to what they should do. At last they hit upon a plan. They seized the table-cloth between their teeth, and began to drag it from the table. Crash! crash! down came the dishes and plates and vases, knives and forks and all, smothering the dogs in broken bits of glass and water.

"Poor little mousie was nearly dragged down too, only she just managed to scramble onto the table again, whence she leaped down to the ground. The dogs saw her, however, and gave chase. She climbed up the wooden partition leading to the loft; but a friend of mine sat up there in wait for her. The sly puss had expected that all would turn out as it had happened, and thought she would get a nice meal without the trouble of hunting it down. She was mistaken, though--for mousie saw her, and stopped half-way up the wall, just out of reach of the dogs. They stood below, barking at her, but could do nothing more.

"After a while mousie felt her strength giving way, so she ran a little sideways along the wall, jumped down, and scampered through the open door along the passage. Her three torturers hurried after her, and away they all went helter-skelter.

"Now, midway across the passage stood the hall-bench. The mouse sprang over it at one bound; but the three clumsy dogs were not so clever. The first one jumped too short, and he just caught the further side of the bench; he pulled it backwards, and together both came down with a crash. He limped back to the hearth-side with a lame leg, having had enough of mouse-catching. His two companions saw his fall, and followed him. All bullies are cowards!" sagely added Pussy, parenthetically.

"And what became of the mouse?" asked the impatient Charlie.

"Why, I was there for her all ready at the end of the passage, and the dogs had done my work for me. But I did not eat her up. I promised her her life if she would tell me all about how she escaped from them, and what they had suffered--and that's how I know it all."

"Thank you, Pussy dear, for your----"

"What are you thinking about, child, calling me Pussy?" exclaimed my godmother, shaking me from a deep sleep. "I have come to bid you good-bye, as I am going now. Little girls should be more respectful to their elders."

"But, really, I suppose I must have been dreaming that----"

"Little girls should not dream foolish things. You should know better, my dear. Now, good-bye, Nelly!"

And so it was all a dream! Yes, there lay Pussy and Charlie fast asleep, too. Dear me! I wish it had been real, though!

A Fortune in an Empty Wallet.

A FORTUNE IN AN EMPTY WALLET.

IN the north of England, several hundred years ago, there lived a young knight. He was very poor, as his father had spent all his money, and the only things of value that he left his son were a white horse of wonderful beauty and a very curious old sword. Edgar--that was the knight's name--was obliged to leave his home, for he had no money to spend in keeping up a large house; and, besides, his father had been deeply in debt, and the tradesmen were clamouring for their bills to be paid, and threatening to put him in prison if he did not pay them. So, having filled two bundles with clothes and food, he mounted his horse and rode off to seek his fortune abroad.

He had been journeying along for several days, not knowing where to go or what to do, when one evening he found himself riding through a dark and gloomy forest. He was thinking to himself how dismal his future looked, and was wondering how he should be able to make a living, when all of a sudden his horse started, reared up on his hind-legs, and then stood quite still, trembling with fright.

Edgar looked around him, and saw, standing under the shadow of an old yew-tree, the figure of an aged man. His form was bent with years, and he leaned for support on a thick knotted stick. His clothes were patched and torn, his toes peeped out from his worn-out boots, while in one hand he carried an old wallet, which had been carefully mended, and which evidently contained something that he greatly valued.

As soon as Edgar's horse stopped short, the old man came near, and asked for alms.

"You have come to the wrong person," replied Edgar; "for though I would gladly help you if I could, I expect that I am quite as poor as you are, except that I still have my sword and my good steed."

The old man looked earnestly at the sword, and his eyes sparkled as he asked eagerly--

"Where did you get that sword from?"

"My father gave it to me," replied Edgar; "and he brought it home with him when he returned from the wars beyond the seas."

"Noble knight!" returned the old man, "in my wallet I have a jewel that is beyond price. That sword of yours takes my fancy, and if you like to exchange it for my wallet and what it contains, I assure you that you will not repent it."

"Let me first see the jewel," said Edgar; for although he was very anxious to get it, he wanted first of all to make quite sure that it was really there.

"Before I let you have my wallet I must have your sword," said the old man; "but if you do not like your bargain, I will give it you back again. You see I cannot possibly run away with it, for you are on horse-back, while I am on foot."

At first Edgar refused to do this, but at last he agreed; for he thought to himself that he could easily get the sword back, as of course the old man could not run as fast as his horse. He therefore handed down his sword and received the old wallet in exchange.

He opened it eagerly, but to his rage and dismay found that it was empty. In his anger he turned round so suddenly, that by accident he touched his horse with his spur. The horse at once began to gallop off, and it had carried him some distance before he could stop it.

When he returned to the spot where he had given up his sword, he at first saw nothing of the beggar, but happening to look up, to his great surprise he saw him sitting in the top of a tall tree, having climbed there so as to be out of his reach.

"Honoured knight!" cried the beggar, "forgive me for playing you such a trick, and rest assured that you shall not in the end suffer for it. This sword which I hold in my hand belonged to my great-grandfather, who was killed in the first crusade, and it has chanced to become your property in some way or other. I knew it at once by the curious hilt, of which the cross-piece is, as you know, turned up at one end and down at the other. Give me your knightly word that you will not harm me, and I will come down and explain to you how it is that I value the sword so highly. Of one thing you may be certain--I shall not deceive you again. And what I tell you will be of great service to you."

Edgar promised the beggar that he should be safe, and the latter began to scramble down from his uncomfortable perch. But, wonderful to relate, he was quite changed, and was now a handsome youth, though still dressed in the same tattered old clothes.

"My name," said the beggar, "is Bertram; and to you I owe a debt of gratitude that I can never repay, for by means of this sword I can win back the castle and lands of my ancestors, from which I have been lately driven to wander about in the guise of an old beggar. Henceforth we will be as brothers, and the half of my lands shall be yours; for had it not been for you, they would never again have become mine. But let me tell you my story.

"Three years ago my father died, and I became heir to all his estates; but my step-mother was a wicked woman, and hated me with all her might. Twelve months since she married again, and both she and her husband set to work to drive me from my home. Many of their attempts failed; but at last they secured the help of an old wizard, who turned me into a beggar. Of course nobody recognized me in this disguise, and my own servants only laughed and jeered when I told them who I was, and my step-father drove me from the castle with blows that I was too feeble to resist.

"I begged him to have mercy, but he only laughed; and the wizard, who was standing by him, said, 'A beggar you must remain until you find your great-grandfather's sword:' then they slammed the door in my face.

"My father thought that he was perfectly safe to keep the castle for ever, as he believed the sword had been lost in a foreign land, and that I never could possibly find it again. But chance has brought it to me when I least expected it, and at a time when I am within a mile of my castle. Come, my friend, let us go and take possession, for I know that the wizard spoke the truth when he said that I should enjoy my own again when I got this sword, because already half of what he said has come true, since I am once more my own self, instead of being an old beggar."

Edgar took Bertram up behind him on his horse, and together they rode off to the castle, which was not far distant. Leaving the horse tied to a tree, they drew near to the gate, when they heard shouts and songs and music, from which they knew that a great feast was being held.

"This way," said Bertram; and they ran down a narrow passage, then up a steep flight of stairs which led to a platform, from which they could look into the courtyard. A wonderful scene met their eyes. The courtyard was full of people, who were eating, drinking, singing, and enjoying themselves to their hearts' content. Two funny men were so happy that they were kissing each other; and in the middle several servants, with their long sharp knives, were cutting up an ox that had been roasted whole, while a number more were bringing in fresh dishes of delicacies, such as peacocks, truffles, and boars' heads.

Bertram quickly looked around, and whispering to Edgar--"He is not here," motioned him to follow, and ran down the stairs again.

They passed through many passages and rooms, meeting no one, for everybody seemed to be helping at the feast. At length they reached a stone terrace that ran along outside the wall of the castle. They walked along this, until Bertram suddenly stopped opposite a large window, and signed to Edgar to look through.

He did so, and saw a man seated at a table with a lot of money before him, which he was paying away as fast as he could to several wicked-looking Jews with fur caps, who were putting it into bags, and carrying it away.

"The wretch!" said Bertram; "see how he is wasting my money. Let us dash in upon him through the window, so that he may see his day is over." So saying, he jumped right through the window on to the floor, closely followed by Edgar.

At the sound of the breaking of glass the Jews looked up, and seeing two strange figures coming through the window, they ran off as fast as they could, leaving their money behind, and shouting out that they had seen a spirit. His step-father fainted with terror, but the old steward at once knew his master again, and kneeling down, kissed his hand, blessing the day that had brought him back once more. Soon all the servants came running in, having heard the shouts of the Jews as they rushed away. Their delight at again seeing their young master, whom they had mourned as dead, was beyond bounds, and they brought him beautiful clothes, and took away his ragged garments, while his wicked step-father was hurried off to prison.

They then conducted him to the courtyard, and seated him in the chair of state, after which they served the banquet that had been prepared for his step-father. But amidst all his happiness Bertram did not forget his friend Edgar, who had been the means of restoring his inheritance to him. Taking him by the hand, he led him to the seat of honour, saying aloud as he did so,--

"Henceforth we are brothers, and everything shall belong to both of us equally. But for you, I should still be wandering about in the forest; so the least I can do is to share my good-fortune with you."

Bertram and Edgar lived together for many years, beloved by all; and Edgar never repented the day when he exchanged his sword for an empty wallet.

WOODFALL & KINDER, Printers, Milford Lane, Strand, W.C.