Miranda Eliot Swan

YEARS have passed since my mother left us. Though I never forget her, I am very happy with the dear people who were so kind to my poor mother, and I try to be a comfort to them.

No reverses of fortune have touched me. Mrs. Rice is very kind to me, though she is not so fond of cats as her sisters. The boys are just perfect. I love them dearly. Karl, the eldest, is a real tease. He pretends to his aunties that he does not care for me, but no one makes more of me (on the sly) than Master Karl. Will is such a dear little fellow! His love for me made them decide to keep me.

We had one long room, and the seam in the poor old carpet was very prominent. On this seam Will and I had our race-ground. He would run just on the seam, and at the end of the room would jump very high. I would run just behind him, and jump higher. This pleased them all, and we got many kisses and treats for our play. Then we would roll over and over, my claws and tail flying, and we did enjoy it.

I was usually very obedient, but sometimes I had contrary fits. It was the "Bohemian" blood in my veins that my poor mother so often spoke of. I cannot get rid of it, and it makes me do something naughty. One cold day, just before Christmas, when I was nearly five years old, I ran away. The door of the laundry was open, and without a thought I rushed out. No one missed me. They supposed I was in the laundry. I mounted to my seat on the fence, and just turned around to find a comfortable place, when a strong hand seized me from the other side, and I was carried swiftly down the alley and taken into a strange house.

I was received with open arms. Not one word of reproof was given the big boy who had stolen me, for the wickedness of the act. They asked him, "How did you manage?"

"Oh," he said, "I was looking over the fence, to see if the stuck-up Rices were there, when I espied my Prince, and grabbed him."

"What shall we do with him?" asked the boy's mother.

"Shut him up till he forgets his old home."

(How little they knew about a cat's nature, when they thought I could forget!)

I rushed into a corner, and struck out with open claws at all who approached me, growling just as I had heard dogs growl—an accomplishment I had just discovered. Delighted with my success, I was inclined to make the most of it.

"Well, I must say he has a nice temper." And the bad boy held up his hands, where my etchings, though painful to him, were a credit to my skill. "King Karl and Prince Will must be covered with scars. Who cares! If they won't play with me, I have got their pet cat, and will keep him, in spite of his beastly temper."

"No, you won't," I said to myself, "if I can help it."

For three wretched days I was shut up. They treated me with great kindness, and tried to pet me, offering me nice food. I was too homesick to care for anything, and too wretched to think of eating, only that I had sense enough to know I must take enough to give me strength. I could not sleep. Visions of my dear home and loved ones kept my eyes wide open, and I did make good resolutions never to run away again if I could get free.

The big boy went away to spend the holidays, leaving orders with them all to keep me, that when he came home he might enjoy the sorrow of the Rices.

"They have sent around slips to all the houses and have advertised, but they shall never get him," he said, with a horrid laugh.

After he had gone, finding I was no pleasure to them, they decided to let me go. They could tell the boy, when he returned, that I ran away. They were not people who regarded truth at all.

So one day I found the door open, and without waiting to say good-by, I ran home. I had been away three days. It was the day after Christmas, and it seemed to me three years since I left my home.

Stacy Knight, a dear little fellow about Will's age, the son of the friends in whose house we had rooms, happened to be in the basement, and espied me when I jumped on the window. He gave a real Indian yell as I rushed into his arms, and we mounted the stairs, two at a time, and found ourselves in the midst of the family assembled in the hall, wondering at the war-whoop given by Stacy.

My dear mistress sat down on the floor, hugging me in her arms, while all of them were ready to take me from her.

"Oh, Daisy," she said, "what a sad Christmas we spent without our pet! Where were you?"

I could not speak and tell her what it had been to me, and they never knew where I had been. After this I always looked on both sides of the fence before I seated myself.

After they had all caressed me and expressed their delight at my return, dear Mrs. Knight said:—

"Now that 'The Prodigal Son' has returned, he must have a party."

"Yes," said Karl and Will, "we had no Christmas; let's give Daisy a tree."

After Stacy, Karl, and Will had indulged in a war-dance, and each had turned me heels over head, they all decided it would be a nice plan. And from that time till the New Year's night, when the party was to be given, we could think of nothing else.