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AFTER supper, the Captain got out his spectacles lit his pipe, and began reading the newspaper. "Humph!" he would say sometimes; or "Well, well!" or, perhaps, "They need some honest sailors in the Senate." But this evening he found something to read to the Cat. He always acted as though the Cat understood him, for it kept him from being lonely.
"Here's a poem," he said, looking up, "called The Bad Kittens." Then he read aloud slowly:
But the little black cats won't hear you,
The little black cats are maddened
By the bright green light of the moon.
They are running and whirling and hiding,
They are wild who were once so confiding,
They are mad when the moon is riding
You will not catch the kittens soon!
They care not for saucers of milk,
They care not for pillows of silk,
Your softest, crooningest call
Means less than the buzzing of flies.
They are seeing more than you see,
They are hearing more than you hear,
And out of the darkness they peer
With a goblin light in their eyes!"
But the Cat was not interested. He yawned. His mouth opened very wide, showing his sharp, curly tongue, and his whiskers stood out till they nearly touched in front of his nose. The Captain quite understood, and after that read to himself.
Tick-tock-tick went the cuckoo clock. The Cat's big eyes watched it. He knew that foolish bobbing bird would soon pop out of his little door and call, "Cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo!" at the top of his lungs, and pop inside his little door again, slamming it behind him. He hated that cuckoo, but it had always been beyond his reach. To-night he noticed that the big wing chair was nearer the clock than usual. Perhaps he could reach it, if he ran across the rug, up the seat of the chair to the back, and so straight at the cuckoo. Well, it was worth trying. He waited. He was very patient. The Captain went on reading. At eight o'clock promptly the little door of the clock opened and out popped the wooden cuckoo.
"Cuckoo!" he began, bowing. "Cuckoo! cu—" He didn't finish. There was a black rush across the rug, up the seat of the chair to the back, and so straight at the cuckoo. Then an awful crash! Down came the clock, the Cat, and the cuckoo, onto the floor all together.
"Bless my soul!" cried the Captain, jumping up. "Bless my soul!"
"Cuckoo! cuckoo!" squawked the cuckoo.
The Cat said nothing, but hurried under the sofa when he saw the
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Captain coming. The Captain was a patient man, but he loved that clock.
"I'll teach you, you pirate!" he shouted, trying to reach him under the sofa. But whichever side of the sofa the Captain tried, the Cat always managed to be on the other. Finally the Captain, very red in the face, got down on his stomach to reach better. Susannah heard him breathing hard, and stuck her turbaned head in through the door.
"What's the trouble, boss?" (She never could learn to say "skipper.")
But the Captain even now didn't want to admit how bad the Cat had been, especially to Susannah.
"I'm looking for my handkerchief," he said, getting up, still very red in the face.
Susannah began to giggle. "I bet dat han'kerchief, boss, is a mighty good dodger!"
The Captain didn't say anything but sighed again and put the clock gently on the table, and went back to his chair. He looked at the clock sadly, and thought he would mend it in the morning when the light was better. When the Cat was sure that the Captain was quite settled again with his pipe and his paper, he came out from under the sofa, stretching and yawning as though he'd been having a nap. Somehow he wasn't very proud of himself, with the Captain feeling sad about the clock. But the Cat wasn't ready to admit how he felt yet.
Down on the hearthrug he sat to wash his paws. Suddenly he had a feeling that he was being looked at. It couldn't be Susannah. He had heard her go upstairs to bed. And it couldn't be the Captain, for he was puffing his pipe behind the newspaper. Quickly the Cat turned his head and looked at the window nearest the door. There was a face flattened against the pane, with eyes staring into the room. But before the Cat could see who or what it was, the face had disappeared, and nothing could be seen but the dark leaves of the white lilac bush still moving a little.