Chapter VII: The Dead Cat

GRANDMOTHER GILLIES did not carry out her intention of calling on her son to complain of Tom, because she was so late home from Dixtown. She made up her mind she never would trust to her neighbours again, for she had to sit on the harbour wall for two hours, waiting until the fisherman and his wife were ready to return. She had appointed to meet them at a given time, and they had failed to keep the appointment. She was afraid to leave her post lest they should come in her absence, and yet she wanted a cup of tea to warm her so much; for though it was August, there was a brisk wind, and Grandmother Gillies did not bear the chilly evening air at seventy as she had done at twenty years old.

The trio did not leave the harbour until after sunset, and when they were half way to Norton Island it blew such a gale that the boat advanced very slowly, for the fisherman was an old man, and unable to pull the oars so vigorously as Harry or Will Gillies.

Grandmother was thankful to reach home. She found her cottage window half open, as she had left it, to admit Tabby, if the cat chose to take shelter there in her absence. She busied herself in making a fire and boiling her kettle of water; and when she had disposed of a large cup of tea and a good slice of bread and butter, she felt better, and the world smiled on her again.

"I wonder where Tabby is?" she said aloud; for she had a habit of talking to herself. "I mustn't let her go without her milk. Tabby, Tabby!" she called from the window.

As the cat did not appear, grandmother set aside the saucer of milk, and, having washed up her tea things, and put them back into the cupboard, settled into her arm-chair by the fire.

"I'm just tired out," she muttered. "I've had a good warning not to trust to other people again. Harry and Will know how to pull, and wouldn't keep me waiting for a couple of hours."

Before grandmother retired to her bedroom, she went to the window and opened it just wide enough for Tabby to squeeze through if she came later, and then she discovered that large drops of rain were falling.

"Why, it's just beginning to rain!" she exclaimed. "Tabby hates rain; she'll be sure to come now. I'll wait another ten minutes and close the window, for the wet beats in. Tabby will take good care to knock, and I shall hear her."

So Grandmother again took refuge in her arm-chair, and this time she fell fast asleep.

When she awoke, the fire was out and the clock struck eleven. She roused herself up and found the lucifers to light a candle; she then opened the window, expecting to find Tabby without, and very cross at being unable to get in. She was a little surprised that the cat was not there, but no thought of an accident having happened to her favourite crossed her mind.

"She'll be here before morning. I'll leave the window as I generally do when she's out," said the old woman.

Grandmother Gillies was up betimes, and her first thought was of Tabby. When she discovered no trace of her, she began to wonder where she was.

"I certainly saw her close to the landing stage when the boat started. Ah! And Tom was there too; but he wouldn't touch her, I know."

She was still debating in her own mind as to Tabby's whereabouts, when the door was opened, and her granddaughter Sally entered.

"Good morning, granny," she said. "I came to see how you were after the storm. Mother has taken Tom over to Dixtown, and she couldn't come herself. She was afraid you'd have a tossing yesterday."

"So I did, Sally. Was Tom's eye better?"

"Oh, yes; much better, granny. But how are you?"

"What did Tom do yesterday? I saw him on the cliffs opposite the landing stage when I started," asked the old woman, without heeding Sally's question.

"He said he saw you. He was at home nigh upon all day. He didn't seem in good spirits."

Grandmother was relieved. She did not really imagine that Tom would injure her cat, and yet she was glad to know that he was at home for the greater part of the day, and never suspected that he had accomplished his cruel work so immediately after she left him.

"How are you, granny?" asked Sally again. "You don't seem quite yourself. Mother was afraid the storm would upset you."

"No, it hasn't, child; but the fact is, Tabby's never been home all night, and I'm a little uneasy about her."

"But she often serves you so."

"Not if it rains; she never stays out in the wet."

"I daresay she won't be long. She'll be wanting her breakfast. Shall I walk round the island and see if I can find any trace of her?"

"Do, there's a good girl; and come back to me before you go home."

Sally went off at once, asking the few people she met by the way if they had seen the cat, for Tabby was just as well-known as any other inhabitant of the island. She was on the point of returning to her grandmother, to inform her that her errand had been a fruitless one, when she thought she would go down to the shore. The tide was running out fast, and Tabby might be in one of the caves catching small crabs.

It did not take her many minutes to reach the landing stage; she walked along the sands, peering into every corner, and calling "Tabby! Tabby!" As she was passing a small nook, where several high stones were firmly fixed in the sand, and covered with thick brown sea-weed, something darker than the weed attracted her attention. Sally walked up to it to gratify her curiosity, and not because she expected to find Tabby. And then she discovered it was the body of the once petted cat, which had evidently been preyed upon by some creature, for she had a large hole in her side, and half her tail was gone. As Sally gazed in wonderment and horror, a great crab sidled away, as if it had been disturbed, and sought to hide from detection. It was quite evident that poor pussy had fallen a victim to its voracious propensities, but how she came to be reduced to such a condition as to afford food for a crab was more than the young girl could tell.

"What will grandmother say? Who will carry the poor cat home to her? I dare not," she exclaimed. "Oh! What shall I do?"

She sat down near the dead creature, but shrank from touching her, and kept repeating to herself, in a monotonous voice, "What will grandmother say?"

She was aroused by a sound of whistling. It was Dick Potter, who was on his way to the quarries.

"O Dick! Do come here," called Sally. "Tabby's dead; it's so dreadful."

The boy scrambled, and jumped, and slid, until he reached her side. "What's up?" he asked.

"Look! Look!" cried Sally, pointing with her finger.

"It's a dead cat, that's all. It ain't a very uncommon thing to find one, and I suppose the crabs have been at it."

"But it's Tabby," almost screamed Sally, "grandmother's cat; and I can't touch her, she looks so horrible. I don't know what granny will say when she sees her. She'll be quite ill."

"I'll carry it up to the old woman if you like, but you must go on first and say I'm coming."

"I'd rather you went with me to help tell her."

"Nonsense! What's a cat?" said Dick, scornfully.

"A great deal to grandmother," answered Sally, indignantly. "But I'll be obliged to you if you'll carry Tabby home," she added, more gently.

Dick touched the cat with a short stick he carried, and finally held her by the small bit that yet remained of her once beautiful tail.

Grandmother stood at her open door watching for Sally to come. She did not notice that Dick was behind her granddaughter, and asked, "Have you found her?"

"Yes, grandmother," replied Sally, hesitating.

"Where is she?" said the old woman, walking forward a few steps; and then she caught sight of Dick carrying her dead Tabby.

"You wicked, wicked boy!" she screamed. "How dare you kill my cat? I'll have you punished."

"A nice way to thank a fellow!" exclaimed Dick, throwing down his burden. "You may bury her yourself; I won't help you."

And he was turning away, but Sally called out—

"It wasn't Dick, grandmother; Tabby's fallen over the cliffs into the sea. I found her on the shore, and the crabs have had her."

"Tabby fallen, indeed she was too sure-footed for that. Oh, my poor, poor cat!" And grandmother burst into tears.

Bad and hardened as Dick was, he felt a momentary sorrow for old Mrs. Gillies. "I ain't worth much," he said, "but I wouldn't kill your Tabby for fun."

"You must believe him," cried Sally; "depend on it, I'm right. Tabby fell over the cliffs."

"I wish I hadn't gone out yesterday; everything went wrong," sobbed poor granny. "I suppose Tabby must have tumbled. I'd have locked her up if I'd thought she'd have got into mischief. She always has walked on the most dangerous places. O dear! I don't know how I shall get on without her."

Sally tried to comfort the old woman, but Dick's sympathy was soon exhausted. "I'm off to work now," he said.

"I thought you'd help bury her, and now you're going away. Won't you stay and dig a hole?" asked grandmother.

"If you've done making a fuss, and are ready for business, I'll stay," answered Dick, rudely. "Where's a spade?"

"I'll get one," replied Sally.

"I can't bear to part with her," sighed grandmother, stroking the mangled remains of her poor favourite, while Dick was busy digging.

"We must find another pussy for you," answered Sally, kindly; "there are plenty of kittens to be had for asking."

"But none will ever be so faithful as my poor dear Tabby."

The grave was made in the small garden behind the cottage. Grandmother watched Dick until he had finished, and a little mound was raised over Tabby's remains.

"Here's twopence for you," she said, "and thank you."

Dick was not generous enough to refuse payment; he put the coppers into his pocket, and went away to find work.

"You can go home now, Sally," said grandmother; "I'd rather be alone."

It was a long day for the old woman, who shed many tears over poor Tabby's untimely end. Could Tom have witnessed her grief, he would have been doubly punished.

Mr. Gillies and his son Harry called in the evening, and heard the sad history a second time; for Sally had already told them every particular.

"I shall soon find you a new pet, granny," said Harry, when he bade her good-bye. "Don't fret."

"I'd rather not have another just yet," she replied.

"You'd best leave your grandmother to herself," remarked Mr. Gillies to his son, as they walked home. "It's no use trying to mend matters while the trouble's so fresh. She's better without a cat for a time."

"I shall ornament Tabby's grave to-morrow" was grandmother's last thought ere she fell asleep. And here we may as well add that before many days passed, the little mound was studded with whelks and oyster shells, and in the centre a fuchsia was planted which cost a shilling; but granny did not grudge the money, nor the sacrifice it entailed to purchase it.