Part 15

So he went to a neighbouring magpie, knowing the love of meddling which characterises that class of birds, and sought her aid in his scheme. The magpie was a very wary and cunning bird, and would not trust herself within paws' length of the weasel, for although she knew that, happily for herself, she was not a morsel which even a weasel could eat with relish, yet she was also well aware of the bloodthirsty nature of the animal, and thought it better not to expose him to the temptation of getting her neck into his mouth. So she sat up in the old hawthorn tree, and chattered away to herself, whilst the little animal came underneath and tried to attract her attention.

When at last she condescended to see him, she would not enter upon business for some time, but, like many persons who, not being blameless themselves, are very ready to blame other people, chattered away to him for a good five minutes upon the subject of his general bad behaviour, and read him a lesson upon morality, coupled with a homily upon the sin of thieving, which would have come admirably from the beak of a respectable rook, but was very ill-placed in that of a notorious bad liver and evil-doer like the magpie.

The weasel, however, keeping his object steadily in view, heard her remarks with great apparent politeness, although as a matter of fact her advice (like that which many better people give, both in and out of season) went in at one of his ears and out at the other, and produced not the smallest effect upon his future conduct. When her chatter came at last to an end, he unfolded the nature of his business and asked her counsel and assistance in the matter.

Now the magpie was by no means friendly to the dog and cat, having an idea that they were better off in their worldly affairs than she was, which is always a sufficient cause for evil-minded people to dislike others. So she had no objection at all to enter upon a scheme which might annoy and injure them, and indeed her natural love of mischief would have prompted her to do so, had she had no other feeling in the matter. Having always, however, an eye to the main chance, she asked the weasel what she should gain by the transaction, and having been faithfully promised the eye-picking out of the first twelve young rabbits he should catch, she at once consented to go into the business.

The idea of the two confederates was to create in the first place a coldness between the dog and cat, by means of inducing the couple already mentioned, to show greater favour to one than the other.

Here, however, arose another difficulty. How could either weasel or magpie obtain access to a man and woman, or in any shape exercise an influence over their conduct and actions? The idea was so preposterous that they had to give it up.

Then came the question whether they could not persuade either the cat or dog to do something which would offend and annoy the other, either by being opposed to his or her feelings and prejudices, or being actually unpleasant and disagreeable. If they could only settle on something of this kind, it did not appear so impossible to carry out the plan. The weasel need not be seen in the matter, and would incur no such personal danger as that to which he might have been exposed by any scheme which entailed his actual communication with the enemy. The thing must be done by the magpie, who, seated upon the roof of the house, or in an adjacent tree, could converse with either cat or dog without the smallest risk, and was sly and crafty enough to poison the minds of both.

So it was agreed that this should be the course taken, and what was to be the precise form of the magpie's address will be speedily gathered from the story.

The two innocent animals who were the object of this nefarious plot upon the part of creatures so vastly inferior to themselves, were all the while quite unconscious of the conspiracy which was being hatched against them. They went on just the same, and were as friendly as ever. Nor was their harmony disturbed by the introduction into the household of a small poodle, whom somebody gave to the mistress of the house, and who rather amused them than otherwise by his curious antics and grotesque behaviour. He was a curious dog, and had some funny tricks, but old Jenny said that she never heard that there was much against him, or that he had any concern in the wicked plot of the weasel and the magpie.

Having fully determined upon the plan to be pursued, the crafty pair of rascals waited until they could hit upon a time when the cat and dog were not together. The opportunity soon occurred. One fine morning the human occupier of the house (who laboured under the strange but, among human beings, not uncommon delusion that the place and all that it contained belonged to him) went out for a walk in the country, accompanied, as was frequently the case, by honest Rover.

The sun was shining so brightly that Mrs. Effie thought that she had better make the most of it, and get some fresh air at the same time, with no more exertion than was necessary. So she climbed quietly up on the window-sill, stretched herself at full length thereupon, and basked luxuriously in the warm rays of the sun.

Seeing her thus enjoying herself, the magpie flew leisurely into an apple tree which grew near the house, and began to chatter in a way which was certain to attract the cat's attention before long. After a little while Effie began to wink and blink her eyes, move her ears against the woodwork on which she lay, and appear as if disturbed by the noise. Presently she lifted up her head, shook it, and sneezed violently.

"Bless you, Pussy," immediately said the magpie from the apple tree.

Effie looked at her in some surprise.

"Many thanks," she said; "the more so, indeed, since I do not happen to have the pleasure of your acquaintance."

"More's the pity," replied the bird; "but that is no reason why I should refrain from giving a civil blessing to a person who happens to sneeze, for you know well enough that if you sneeze three times without someone blessing you, evil is sure to follow within the week."

"Indeed," answered the cat, somewhat coldly, for she hardly approved of being addressed by a mere bird, and that, too, a perfect stranger, in such a familiar manner. "Indeed, I am sure you are very kind."

And she laid her head calmly down again upon the windowsill. But the magpie was not to be daunted, and determined not to lose the opportunity which she had so carefully sought.

"Although you don't know me," continued she, "which is not surprising, considering that you move in high circles, whilst I am only, as one may say, a humble drudge among the inferior parts of creation, it does not follow, madam, that I am not well acquainted with _you_, and have long wished to obtain your friendship. The beauty of your fur, the elegant shape of your body, the graceful action with which you move, and, above all, the sweetness of your voice (which I have sometimes been fortunate enough to hear at nights), have all made an impression upon me which will not easily be removed. I only wish I might know you better."

As the bird spoke, she hopped from twig to twig of the apple-tree, until she came within easy speaking distance of Effie, and lowered her voice so as to make it less harsh, and more impressive in conversation. Now cats, as is well known to the attentive student of natural history, are by no means averse to flattery. It has sometimes been said that the same is true of women, but this is by no means fair as a general description of the latter, many of them cordially disliking it, and taking it as anything but a compliment when men bespangle them with empty flattery, instead of carrying on sensible conversation, and treating them like reasonable beings. But it is undoubtedly true of cats. Three things they can never resist: cream, scratching their heads, and flattery; and as the magpie had no cream, and forbore to attempt scratching the cat's head for reasons of her own, she fell back, as we have seen, upon flattery.

Effie listened, it must be confessed, with pleasure, and drank in the words of the magpie as greedily as if they had been inspired by the undoubted spirit of truth. As a matter of fact, her elegance of body, beauty of fur, and gracefulness of action might all have been fairly conceded to be matters of opinion, in which many would have agreed with the magpie. But as to the beauty of her voice, anybody who has ever lain awake at night and listened to a concert of cats upon the adjacent roofs will be inclined to stop his ears at the bare recollection of it, and to confess that the magpie must have well known that she was telling a--well, a tarradiddle.

Strange to say, however, the allusion to her voice touched and pleased Effie more than anything else in the magpie's speech, and this the cunning bird had fully expected. She knew cat nature well, which differs but little from human nature in this respect, that people very often fancy themselves to possess some talent or virtue, in which they are, as a matter of fact, deficient, and not unfrequently, whilst priding themselves upon the fancied possession, neglect to cultivate and develop some other quality which they really have, and which might be made much more useful to themselves and others.

So Effie was proud of her voice--where there was nothing to be proud of--and extremely pleased to hear it praised by the magpie, whom she instantly set down in her mind as an evidently respectable and well-informed bird, and one whose acquaintance it might be well to make. Without lifting her head, however, or disturbing the position of her body, which was so placed as to get as much sun as possible, she replied in a languid tone of voice:

"You are really very kind, Madam Magpie, and I am far from wishing to decline the acquaintance you offer."

The magpie broke in at once in a quick chatter, her words tumbling one over another as if they could not get fast enough out of her beak.

"Oh, how good, and kind, and nice, and polite, and generous, and affable, and altogether charming you are! I have often watched you sunning on the window-sill or strolling about the gardens, or looking out for mice, or amusing yourself in one way or another, and I have always looked, and longed, and hoped, and wished, and wondered if I might make so bold as to speak to such a grand, lady-like, beautiful, queenly creature; and when I've heard your voice, I've often said to myself, 'Here's music, and melody, and taste, and feeling, and harmony, and everything that is delightful in sound, and if the lady would only learn singing (though little learning it is she wants), and take it up as a profession, how happy the world and everybody in it would be made: and what so pleasant as to make people happy with the good gifts we have, and who has more than she?'"

As the magpie rattled on, Effie felt more and more pleased, and became still more strongly convinced than before that the bird was a superior creature, who had well used her opportunities, and possessed opinions which were entitled to great weight.

Meantime the weasel, who was listening to the conversation from an old rat's hole in which he had hidden hard by, was fit to kill himself with laughter when he heard the flattery of his ally, and how the cat took it all in.

The latter now raised not only her head but her body, and sat up upon the window-ledge, looking with friendly glance at the old bird in the tree.

"Really," she said, in rather an affected tone, "really, you think too well of me--you do indeed--but now you speak of it, I _have_ (so my friends say at least) something of a voice, and have often thought of cultivating it more than I have hitherto done. But all are not of the same opinion, and I know that my friend Rover the dog thinks differently."

Here the magpie quickly interposed.

"Oh the jealousy of this wicked world and of them dogs in particular! To hear that black, ugly, shaggy animal howl at the moon, or what not, of a night. I declare if it isn't enough to drive one crazy; and for such an animal as _that_ to think anything but good of your lovely, sweet, tuneful, angelic notes! 'Tis really shocking to think he should do so--but envy and meanness, my dear creature, and malice and jealousy was ever in the hearts of dogs--forgive me that I should say so, knowing as how you live in the same house and bear with him as you do."

These words rather gave Effie a new idea of her situation, but as they were evidently intended to be complimentary to herself, though at her friend's expense, she listened to them with complacency.

"You must not blame my friend," she demurely answered, "because he has not such a voice as mine. Few have such, as I think I may say without being suspected of vanity, and I have no reason to think that he is either mean or envious. True, he does not evince the same pleasure in my notes as that which you so kindly express, but this is merely a matter of taste."

"Ah, you dear, kind, good, charitable creature," rejoined the magpie, "it is so like you to take the best and most pleasant view of whatever anybody else says or does. But never mind, if the dog don't like it, others do, and for _my_ part, I should like to hear you play and sing all day and all night long."

"As for playing," returned the cat, "I do not pretend to do _that_; in fact I have never learned, and have always been accustomed to trust to my natural voice without any accompaniment."

"Never learned to play?" cried the magpie in a voice of astonishment. "Dear me, dear me, what a pity! I have so often heard good singers like you speak of the pleasure of being able to accompany oneself, and I am sure you _could_ play if you liked. Now I have a neighbour who plays the violin in the most delightful manner, and what is more, he gives lessons upon that charming instrument. A very few lessons from him, and I am sure you would play so well that the whole neighbourhood would flock to hear you!"

"Really," said Effie, "this sounds very tempting. I have always felt that one ought to cultivate one's talents, and make the most of the gifts which Nature has given us. Your words are well worth consideration," and she mused for a few moments, purring all the while in a contented and self-satisfied tone.

The magpie, who had now brought the conversation to the very point she desired, according to the plan agreed upon with the weasel, began to press the matter home to the cat, telling her that she was wronging herself as well as all the other animals in not making her talents of more avail to them, and taking advantage of the opportunity which now offered.

The musical neighbour of whom she had spoken, turned out to be "Honest John," the hare, and although his services were in great requisition, the magpie said, she was sure that she should be able to secure them for so distinguished a person as the cat, provided that she would consent to take lessons.

After a little more talk, Mrs. Effie decided to allow the magpie to sound the hare upon the subject, and appointed another meeting upon the following day in order to discuss the matter further. Then the magpie, having done a good morning's work, and successfully laid the train by which she hoped to carry out her plot with the weasel, flew chuckling off, whilst the weasel stole silently away, and occupied himself on his own affairs.

Meanwhile the cat was much gratified by all that had passed. She felt that she was appreciated; and that those who lived around evidently recognized her as a person to be considered and made much of. She resolved that she would tell the dog nothing whatever of her interview with the magpie, partly because she thought he would laugh at the readiness with which she had listened to the bird's flattery, and partly because she was quite sure that he would entirely disapprove of her proposed lessons upon the violin. Thus, then, were the first seeds sown of that unhappy quarrel which was destined to divide the two once united races.

Rover returned from his walk in a cheerful and pleasant mood, and behaved in the most friendly spirit towards his old friend. He could not help observing, however, that she hardly treated him after the same fashion. She seemed to hold her head higher than usual, and stood more upon her dignity than had formerly been the case. Being a good-natured dog, he took no notice of this, and, in fact, attributed her conduct to some accidental derangement of the nerves or the digestion. But when the same thing continued during the whole of the next day, he began to feel rather annoyed. Still he said nothing, and went for his walk as usual. As soon as his back was fairly turned, the magpie again made her appearance, and commenced another conversation with the cat. She had not been able to see Honest John, she said, but had made an appointment for the following day, and would call again on the morning after. Then she went on in her former strain, praising the cat's beauty and sweetness of voice to the skies, and throwing in all the nasty insinuations she could think of against poor Rover. Jenny always used to get angry when she came to this part of the story, vowing that no faithful person, and, in fact, no real lady, would have allowed anyone to say such things of an absent friend, but would have stopped the mischievous gossip at once.

Effie, however, did no such thing; and after all, we must own that she only acted in the same manner as a great many men and women, for everybody likes to hear himself praised, and when a person wants to abuse or run down another, if he manages to do so in the same conversation in which he flatters his listener, he has an excellent chance of escaping without rebuke from the latter. Besides, whatever Jenny's opinion may have been, we know very well that, after all, she was but an ass.

So the second visit passed off as successfully as the magpie could have wished, and then there was a third, and at each interview she scattered her poisoned seed so cleverly, that day by day the difference between the two old friends grew imperceptibly wider. I think it was not until the magpie had paid her fourth visit that the arrangement about the violin lessons was finally made.

"Honest John" had reasons for declining to visit the house in which Mrs. Effie lived, but, on being bribed by promises of lettuce and parsley from the garden, freely given by the cat, and conveyed to him by the magpie, the hare consented to give evening lessons three times a week to Effie, provided that she would consent to come down and receive them by the stream which crossed the meadow close to the wood in which Honest John generally resided. In that meadow lived a most respectable cow, reputed to be a great lover of music, and John suggested that after a short time it might be possible for the two to take lessons together, and that a duet between them would be most melodious.

Still this arrangement was kept completely secret from the dog, and the results that followed almost entirely arose from this silence on Effie's part, which was really as foolish as it was unnecessary. Had she opened her heart to her old friend, all might yet have been well, but she had promised the magpie to conceal the matter, and so she did.

She was obliged to practise deceit in order to go forth to her lessons without the knowledge of the dog. She therefore pretended to him that she had a great fancy for cockchafers, which always came buzzing about in the early summer evenings, which was the best time to catch them. So she made this the excuse for stealing out of the house somewhat late, and Rover, finding that she evidently did not want his company, and being too proud to force himself upon anybody, stayed quietly at home.

So the lessons began, and it must have been a curious sight to see the hare and the cat sitting side by side between the wood and the stream, the former instructing the latter how to hold the violin and to wring from it those sounds with which, according to the magpie, she would soon delight the world.

The worthy Rover, albeit quite unsuspicious of what was going on, saw no improvement in the manners and behaviour of his old friend. She was not only cold to him, but not unfrequently behaved with positive discourtesy, making faces when he wished to engage in a friendly game of play with her, frequently setting up her back at him, and occasionally going to the length of spitting. In fact, whatever harmony she might be learning from the hare, the harmony of the household was certainly not increased, and a most uncomfortable state of things prevailed. The good dog became positively unhappy when he found that such an estrangement had grown up between his old friend and himself, and often wondered whether he had given her any just cause of offence, and whether any action on his part would be able to set matters right again.

So matters went on for some time, and the magpie and weasel chuckled vastly over the success of their wicked plot. The cat, meanwhile, made some progress with her lessons, and received the compliments of honest John upon her performance, which in reality was execrable. She had not the slightest idea of time or tune, and could hardly produce a sound from the violin, whilst her voice was so disagreeable that the cow, far from consenting to join her in a duet, invariably left that part of the meadow as soon as she began, and went away to moo by herself as far off as possible. Still the cat persevered, the foolish hare expressed himself satisfied, and the magpie lost no opportunity of encouraging Effie in her praiseworthy exertions.

She irritated Rover exceedingly about this time by caterwauling frequently at night, which made the honest fellow quite fidgety, and no doubt contributed in some degree to the final catastrophe which was now drawing near.

The magpie, who, as it may be seen, cared neither for dog, cat, hare, nor for anything nor anybody except her own interest and amusement, saw plainly enough that the cat could not be deceived for ever by her flattery, and that some day or other she would discover the truth, namely that she was making no progress at all with her music, and was in fact no further advanced than when she first began. Having no regard whatever for the hare, upon whose large eyes she sometimes cast a covetous glance as if longing to peck them out, the wicked old bird thought that her best plan to turn the cat's possible anger from herself, would be to persuade her that her progress towards musical perfection was only delayed by the negligence or stupidity of "Honest John."

She began by suggesting to Effie that although her voice was as fine as ever, and her notes as clear and true, she did not seem to be able to accompany herself as yet upon the violin. Considering her great natural talent this was certainly rather strange. Was she _quite_ satisfied with her master? Hares were jealous animals. Was this one free from the disease? Would it not be well to ask him why she could not yet accompany herself as she wished to do?

By means of such words as these, the cunning magpie succeeded in gradually instilling into the mind of Effie discontent and suspicion of the hare, towards whom she had up to that time entertained nothing but feelings of gratitude and friendship. At her very next lesson she complained of not getting on fast enough, and questioned Honest John sharply upon the subject. The hare made the best excuses that he could, took most of the blame upon himself, denied that there was any such want of progress as was supposed, and promised that the very next evening he would persuade the cow to be present, and join in their musical performance. That night Effie nearly drove Rover mad with her attempts at a private rehearsal.