“How do you do?” I inquired going up to the box. “What is your name?”
“Whoop! Bang!” he exclaimed, suddenly opening his eyes and turning a flying somersault out into the room, “my name's Joker—what for the land's sake, is yours?”
I opened my eyes in undisguised astonishment. This cat was neither shy nor frightened. He was a huge, ungainly young fellow, most peculiarly marked, for one side was white, and the other was Maltese gray, and his manner was bold and assured.
“What's that other cat's name that was with you,” he went on; “that stuck-up thing?”
“Was there a stuck-up cat here?” I said innocently looking over my shoulder. “I was not aware of it.”
“You know what I mean,” he said with a grin, “that white-faced mule.”
“Is that your grandmother under the stove?” I asked.
“No,” he said, “I ain't got a relative here. Though I call her grandma and I call her daughter Aunt Tabby. Aunt Tabby's in under the settin'-room sofy.”
I softly walked into the next room. There was a pleasant-faced, very respectable pussy under the sofa. “How do you do?” I said politely to her.
She bowed her head gravely, and threw me a kind glance.
“I hope you won't mind having so many strange cats come here,” I continued.
“Everybody keeps a number of cats around here,” she said simply. “There are so many mice.”
“They eat the grain,” she said in mild surprise. “You know the farmers have corn, buckwheat, oats, wheat and other things in the bins in their grain-rooms. The mice make sad havoc in the bins, unless there are cats about. Up in the barn, there is a cat.”
“Called Thummie,” interposed the foolish, grinning Joker. “He's got double side claws on his paws. He's a sight.”
The tabby cat listened patiently to Joker, then she continued, “I have charge of the carriage-house, and Joker here, looks after the house.”
“Grandma being most as good as dead, does nothin',” interrupted that dreadful grinning Joker.
“Do you allow young cats here to make fun of old ones?” I said indignantly to the pleasant-faced tabby.
She seemed embarrassed, and Joker replied, “Course we do—this is a free country, ain't it?”
“Certainly, one is free to do anything,” I replied, “but the question is, whether it is right and kind to do certain things.”