Chapter 2

'Why, you know they always give us our dinner behind the laurel trees, on the grass, and you know, too, that they give us more than we want; indeed, more than is good for us--for don't you remember, when you were ill last autumn, the doctor said you ought to live more sparingly? and they never take away the bits when we have done; so that it is all our own property, and I was thinking that if you would be so very kind as to leave a bone or two that you really don't want, and I will do the same, the poor----'

Astonishment and indignation had, so far, kept Glumdalkin silent; but now, finding voice once more, she burst forth into a perfect torrent of wrath, declaring that not one bone would she leave--no! that she wouldn't. _She_ wouldn't be answerable for bringing a parcel of thieving cats about the house--a pretty thing indeed!--what did Friskarina think the princess would say?

Friskarina meekly replied, that there would certainly be no thieving in the case; for that their dinner was all their own, and if they did not eat it all, it would only be left on the grass, to moulder away; and she really could not think the princess would have any objection to their relieving the poor cat's want, out of their own abundance. But these, and other similar arguments were all wasted upon the selfish Glumdalkin: she jumped down from her stool in a passion, turned her back upon Friskarina, rolled herself round into a great black ball, and seemed in a few moments to be fast asleep. Not that she was asleep, though; and her bad humor was not much mended by hearing the princess, who was lying on her sofa, call Friskarina to her, in her most endearing accents:--'Her dear, good, darling little Friskarina.'

'It's most uncommonly odd that she never calls for _me_,' thought Glumdalkin.

Meanwhile, Friskarina had jumped up to her mistress, who stroked her fondly, and kissed her, and Friskarina felt her face wet with tears.

'What can be the matter with the princess?' thought she; 'I am sure _she_ can't have any troubles; O I wish she could see that poor woman in the cottage!'

One o'clock--and the great bell of the palace rang--and then the cats always went down to dinner, and the princess went down to her luncheon. And a grand luncheon it was, for it happened that day to be the princess's birth-day, and three of her cousins were coming to dine with her, and they were going to have _such_ a plum-pudding--so _very_ big; and there was to be an elephant and castle, made of sugar, all over gilding, at the top. But, somehow, when the princess sat down to her luncheon, she did not look happy, notwithstanding her birth-day, and her three cousins, and the great plum-pudding they were going to have.

'May it please your royal highness,' said the tall page, Grandmagnificolowsky, 'shall I put the cats' meat in the hall for them, as the snow is so deep in the garden, to-day?'

'No, no, nonsense!' replied the princess, who had just helped herself to the breast of a partridge, 'put it in the old place in the garden; and here--put this wing and leg upon the dish too.'

Did not Glumdalkin's eyes sparkle when she got to the dish, and found the wing of the partridge; how she devoured it! She was really so busy, that she actually was some minutes before she discovered that Friskarina had gently drawn away a mutton bone, with some beautiful picking upon it, to a spot at a little distance among the trees, and that she had then come quietly back, and was making her own dinner upon the drumstick of a chicken, which she was eating very deliberately, as if she were trying to make it last as long as possible. There was still the leg of the partridge left, and two or three other very delicate tit-bits, besides two large slices of cold roast-beef. Glumdalkin had hardly swallowed the last morsel of the wing, and was just thinking about the leg, when, to her unspeakable surprise, the house-door opened, and out came the princess, attended by one of the maids of honor, and followed by Grandmagnificolowsky. The ladies were muffled up in their fur cloaks, and the maid of honor seemed to be carrying a basket. Poor famished Glumdalkin! so great was her astonishment, that she positively paused, with her claw suspended over the leg of the partridge, to see what her royal highness could possibly be about.

The princess no sooner came up to the place where the cats were dining, than, stopping, she commanded the page to carry Glumdalkin back to the house. 'That cat will eat herself into an apoplexy,' she said; 'I never saw such a greedy creature!'

The astonishment, the indignation of Glumdalkin, what words can describe? It _has_ been said, that she positively set up her back and hissed at the princess; but I can hardly believe _that_. However, whether she did or not, it made no difference. Grandmagnificolowsky picked her up, and carried her into the house, not without plenty of scratches for his trouble. The princess and the maid of honor passed on, and went out at the garden door.

Here was a golden opportunity for Friskarina! She ran behind the bushes, where Tibb was munching her bone with all her might; and telling her to eat all that was left upon the dish, sat by, watching her with the utmost satisfaction in her countenance, though she certainly had not had a very capital dinner herself. Poor little Tibb! She looked as if she hardly knew how to eat, for sheer joy! However, she _did_ finish at last; and then, running up to Friskarina, called her her only friend--her deliverer from starvation--and said many other very affectionate things besides. But Friskarina cut them short, by begging her to go home without delay, for fear the gardener should find her, and hang her up to the apple-tree. That conclusion of her morning's adventures not appearing desirable to poor Tibb, she lost no time in following her friend's advice, and, with a scramble or two, was soon over the wall, and on her road home.

Now Friskarina had a strong idea that it would be advisable to keep out of Glumdalkin's way that afternoon as long as possible, having a pretty tolerable notion of the sort of temper her respected relative would be most likely to be found in, so, cold as it was out-of-doors, Friskarina could not muster resolution to go into the house till it was really getting quite late, almost tea-time. So she amused herself with making foot-marks in the snow, and running after the twigs that the wind blew about, and such like diversions, till it got almost dark, and she began to feel very hungry, for she had not had much dinner. That put her in mind of her new friend; and she reflected, with great satisfaction, that poor Tibb certainly was not nearly so hungry that night as she had been before: and then she began to wonder where the princess could have been going to, and whether she would see the poor old woman at the cottage: and Friskarina thought what a fine thing it must be to be a princess, and to be able to help people who were in distress. What a great deal of good I would do! thought she, as she threw herself down to rest upon a little heap of snow. I would be so careful, and never waste anything; and I would have all the bones saved for the poor cats round my palace; and,--O what a deal of good I would do, if I were only a great lady, like the princess! Just then, a very odd thought came into Friskarina's head. She began to consider whether she _had_ done all the good she might have done, as it was: and suddenly it struck her, that she had very often, indeed, ate a great deal more dinner than she really wanted, just because it happened to be nice; and she remembered, that once or twice old Bear, the watch-dog, who was chained up in the yard, had said to her, how glad he should be to have something more to eat; and yet it was very odd, but it had never occurred to her, that she might so easily have saved him a bone or two at her dinner time, and yet have had plenty for herself too.

So poor little Friskarina hung her head down, and felt quite ashamed; the tears came into her eyes. 'Poor Bear!' she said, 'I might have helped you very often, if I had only thought about you. I'm afraid I have been very selfish!'

And then she began to think, that perhaps it was rather unkind in her not to go and look after poor old Glumdalkin, who was, no doubt, in no very _happy_ mood. So, screwing up her courage as well as she could, she trotted up stairs, and, finding that the princess was just entering the drawing-room, she slipped in after her. The fire was blazing gloriously; but, at first, Friskarina was quite unable to see anything of her second cousin once removed, (I'm afraid Friskarina now and then sincerely wished her removed altogether!) for though the fire was bright, there were no candles in the room, and it was a very large one, so that the further extremity of it was rather dark. So she began looking round, for she could not imagine where the old cat could be gone to: at last, quite at the far end, she thought she perceived some black object behind one of the chairs, and, on going up to it, found Glumdalkin, with her eyes closed, her head very erect, her tail curled very tight round her toes, and her whole person apparently immovable, except, now and then, an angry twitch at the end of her tail.

Friskarina saw plain enough that she was not asleep; so, as she really felt rather sorry for her, she asked her if she did not feel cold, sitting so far from the fire.

'I beg, Ma'am, you won't trouble yourself about me,' was the gracious reply; 'if I chose to sit by the fire, I should do so: I suppose the princess would not order me out!' this was said with such a strange kind of hysterical laugh, that Friskarina thought she was going to burst into a fit of crying.

'Come,' she said, kindly, 'don't be so unhappy, my dear Glumdalkin! I am sure the princess did not mean to be unkind to you; I do think she was only afraid you might, perhaps, not be quite careful enough--might take more than was really good for you; I'm quite certain she did not intend anything uncivil.'

'And do you mean to say,' screamed Glumdalkin, 'that, at my time of life, I'm to be dictated to by a young thing like the princess, and that I can't be trusted to eat my dinner? No, indeed, I won't submit to it! _I'm_ not going to bear such indignities! The princess will find out her mistake when I am gone.'

'But,' said Friskarina, very gently, 'what can you do?'

'Do!' said Glumdalkin, striking her paw with great violence upon the top of a footstool, 'do! why, can't I leave the palace? You don't suppose I shall remain here another day, do you? I shall look out for another situation directly--a cat like myself won't go a-begging.'

Friskarina was so astonished at this sudden resolve, that it was a minute or two before she could answer; at length, she quietly asked when Glumdalkin intended to quit the palace.

'To-morrow, decidedly;' replied Glumdalkin, 'perhaps I may stay till after dinner, there's a basket of fish just come in, and I am really not strong enough to encounter the fatigue of the thing in a morning, it will be a great trial to me--very great.' And Glumdalkin put her paw up to her eyes for a few moments; but Friskarina thought it did not look at all wet when she put it down.

'I am very much concerned for you,' she said; 'and I do strongly recommend to you not to think of going away: you will be lost in the snow, and I am sure you would not like to take shelter in any of the cottages; think what wretched places they are! What will become of you? you will lose your way in the woods, or fall a prey to some wild beast; do pray think better of it.'

Glumdalkin sat silent for some minutes, seemingly plunged in the most dismal meditations.

'Well,' she said, at length, in a rather mollified tone, 'I have no doubt you would all miss me dreadfully; you, especially, Friskarina, as you are so young and giddy, and so little able to take care of yourself; we will see, I don't wish to do anything unkind by you--'

Just at that moment Grandmagnificolowsky entered with the princess's supper; and as the princess called 'Puss! puss!' several times, Glumdalkin was forced at last to present herself, being rather hungry besides; so she lapped a saucer of cream that her mistress condescended to pour out for her, much more thankfully than usual, and then went off to bed, thinking that, after all, she _might_, perhaps, vouchsafe to remain in the palace; and she dreamt all night that she was being pursued by wolves in a forest, and was forced to take refuge in a miserable hut, where she had nothing to eat but a bit of mouldy cheese, and nothing to drink but a drop of muddy water.

What did little Friskarina dream about? I can't tell you; but the first thing she thought of, when she awoke in the morning, was poor Tibb, and the wretched cold bed she had that night--how different from her own, with its nice soft warm cushions.

Glumdalkin got up later than usual, and looked nearly as cross as when she went to bed; but she said nothing more about going: and Friskarina took care at breakfast to show her every possible good-natured attention; she gave her by much the largest share of the cream, took the draughty side of the hearthrug herself, and, in short, did everything she could to show that she was anxious to be kind and civil to her; but all her little politenesses seemed nearly lost upon Glumdalkin.

She sate, humped up, all the morning by the fire, with her shoulders up to her ears, and with a gleam in her eyes, if anybody came near her, that was positively savage.

The princess sat in her drawing-room, looking very thoughtful and rather sad. It was certainly very stupid work in the drawing-room that morning.

Friskarina got tired of such dull company, and set off into the garden. But first of all, she ran down into the court-yard, to have a little conversation with Bear, the watch-dog, and hear the news. Moreover, she wanted to find out how Bear's own affairs were going on, and whether he had enough to eat now. And so, after a little chat about the weather, and the probability of the wolves coming down from the mountains, and so forth, she ventured delicately to inquire into the state of his finances, as regarded bones and such things; and she learnt, to her great satisfaction, that, since the new cook came into office, Bear had been living in clover, as it were. Come, thought Friskarina, that's one good thing, however; now I may keep all my spare bits for poor Tibb! So, after a little further conversation about the affairs of the nation, for Bear was a great politician, and read the 'Canine Guardian' three times a week, and talked very learnedly about the game laws, the friends parted. Bear laid himself down to sleep in his kennel, and Friskarina scampered off into the garden, to watch for Tibb's descent over the wall.

Punctually as the great bell of the palace rung, Tibb's ears appeared among the top leaves of the ivy, and in a second she was at her benefactress's side, looking so much less miserable than she did at first, that it quite rejoiced Friskarina to look at her.

And now the house door opened, and out came a page, carrying a large dish full of chicken bones, slices of meat, pieces of fish, and such like delicate morsels, and closely followed by Mrs. Glumdalkin, making such a clamorous mewing that one would have thought she had had no breakfast.

Tibb, luckily, was hidden by a low bush; or I would not answer for it that Glumdalkin would not have flown at her. However, she was too much taken up with her dinner just then to look about her; for seeing a beautiful piece of cold sole among the bits on the dish, and being dreadfully afraid that Friskarina might take a fancy to it, she seized upon it, and swallowed such a great piece whole, that the back-bone stuck in her throat, and she could neither get it up nor down. She coughed--she gasped--but there the bone stuck,--she coughed again, quite convulsively, still the bone remained immovable; Friskarina, who was at a little distance, grew very much alarmed, and running up to her, thumped her on the back; but all in vain, her struggles became absolutely frightful to witness; she kicked, she groaned--she started to her feet, and ran, in an agony, like a mad thing, twice round the grass, shrieking with pain; at length, sinking down, completely exhausted, she stretched out her limbs, quite stiff, and giving a fearful groan, breathed her last!

Friskarina, exceedingly terrified, ran behind the bushes to call Tibb to her assistance, for she did not know, at first, that Glumdalkin was really dead: but what was her astonishment to find Tibb gone, and in the place where she had left her, an odd looking old lady, in a red satin petticoat, trimmed with gold fringe, a gray cloak, a hat with a very high crown, and she carried in her hand a long ebony stick, with a queer silver head to it.

'Come hither, pretty Friskarina!' cried the old lady; and stooping down, she patted her back, saying, 'So you were going to save your own dinner for me, you good little creature.' Friskarina looked at her with the utmost amazement; and it was not much lessened when the old Fairy (for it was the princess's aunt), stroking her again, thanked her for the good lesson she had taught her niece. What a strange old lady; thought Friskarina, what can she possibly mean?

Meanwhile, the princess had been looking out of the window, and perceived her fairy aunt, with a little secret consternation, for she was rather afraid of her; however, she hastened down stairs to receive her, wondering all the time what she could be come for.

'So, niece!' was the old lady's salutation, 'I find you have been indebted to your cat for the best lesson you have had for this many a day.'

The princess stooped down to kiss the fairy's hand. 'It is too true, indeed, dear aunt;' she replied, 'but I hope it is a lesson which I shall be the better for as long as I live. I blush to think that I should have been so long insensible to the wants and miseries of the poor people who were dwelling so near me, till, as you say, my little cat's example taught me how selfish and unfeeling I had been.'

'It is well for you, niece,' said the fairy, 'that you visited the poor old woman's cottage yesterday, and took her what was needful to supply her wants; for you little thought,' added the old woman, laughing rather maliciously, 'that the poor miserable cat, who was sitting behind the door, was your old aunt. I say, it was lucky for you that you bethought yourself at last of your duty; or, I promise you, the last should have been your very last night in your palace--_that_ it should,' she continued with increasing vehemence, striking her stick on the ground till the walk rang again. 'Let me find things _very_ different when I pay you my next visit!' And with these words, waving her ebony wand in the air, the fairy vanished; and the princess found that her own fine dress had disappeared too, and that a gown of plain gray cloth had taken its place.

But only imagine her consternation when she went into the palace! All the gay things were gone out of the drawing-room; the thick velvet curtains no longer hung from the windows--there were no soft easy chairs--no pretty ornaments; her beautiful silver nautilus-shell, with its pale blue satin curtains, was gone also; and in its place, there was a plain little bed, with brown stuff furniture, so exceedingly ugly and dismal, that the princess declared to herself she should never be able to get a wink of sleep in it. In short, all her favorite apartments wore an air of what seemed to her the most utter desolation.

Yet the princess had all the necessaries of life left; there was plenty of bread and meat in the larder, though all the dainty things were gone; there were coals and wood enough in the cellar; she had a good bed to lie upon; and her house was a palace still in comparison with the cottage of the poor old woman who lived near her gate. But she was some time in finding that out. Poor princess! when she looked round her drawing-room, she burst into tears. Just then, a voice near her said, 'They are taken away till you have learnt to pity others, and to be unselfish!' She turned, and caught a glimpse of the Fairy's red petticoat disappearing through the door-way.

When she was sufficiently recovered to go round the house, and see what was left, she found, to her great satisfaction, that all her money was spared, and she determined, in future, to make a very different use of it.

The melancholy decease of Glumdalkin threw several distinguished families in Catland into mourning; but I never heard that any body particularly lamented her.

'And so the princess and Friskarina went on living together in the palace?'

Why no, not exactly: but you shall hear about it. One fine bright morning, not many days after the Fairy's visit, Friskarina was sitting, all by herself, on the drawing-room window-seat, thinking over all the wonderful things that had happened, when suddenly she saw, flying past the house, a pair of milk-white doves, with silver collars round their necks, and bearing between them what seemed to be a small white box, which they gently placed upon the lawn, and then they flew away. The white box grew taller and taller, larger and larger; till, in a few minutes, there stood the loveliest little cottage you ever beheld. Its walls were of the richest carved ivory--there were two parlors in it, one for the winter, which faced the south, and was lined with crimson velvet, and the other for summer, hung with sea-green silk. The chairs and tables were of satin-wood; the cups and saucers of the prettiest porcelain; and there were crystal flower-pots in the windows, filled with maiden-blush roses and lilies-of-the-valley. Over the door was written in golden letters,

'A PRESENT FOR FRISKARINA.'

I do not think you ever beheld such a charming dwelling for a cat; and Friskarina took possession of it, and commenced housekeeping directly, and the princess presented her with a superb silver cream-jug, towards her stock of furniture. And, as there were more rooms in her cottage than she wanted for her own use, Friskarina took in six infirm, homeless cats, advanced in life, and provided for them as long as they lived; and when they died, she supplied their places with others, equally necessitous. As Glumdalkin died without a will, Friskarina, being her nearest relation, of course, succeeded to her property, which chiefly consisted of that delightful soft bed, of yellow satin, which I told you about before, and which, together with her own, Friskarina immediately set aside for the use of the two oldest and most rheumatic cats in her establishment.

And now I must tell you a little more about the princess: when the Fairy paid her next visit to her, which was in about a year's time, she found a great change for the better in her. Instead of lying in her bed half the morning, she was up by six; instead of sitting all day on the sofa, reading nothing but story-books and silly fairy-tales (which, of course, sensible people never read), she studied wise books of history and geography, and made flannel petticoats, and knitted warm stockings for the poor, and went to see them at their own dwellings: in short, she had become as useful as she had been idle and selfish before. The wretched huts at her gate were gone, and in their place was a very pretty row of cottages; and such nice, neat old people lived in them--for, as for the young and healthy, the princess ordered them to go out into the world and earn their own livelihood.

'But, did the princess ever get back her fine things?'