Freddy and Simon the Dictator by Walter R. Brooks Page B

Jinx’s good faith, for he insisted that the cat take charge of the interview. In consequence, Jinx had no chance to explain his position secretly to the farmer, and Mr. Bean was naturally very angry at him. “You miserable critter,” he said; “why, you’re lower than these rats. After all, they’re acting according to their nature, which is mean and nasty; but you—pah! I’ve no words for such a wretched traitor. What’s your opinion, Mrs. B.?”
    Mrs. Bean wrinkled up her eyes and considered the cat, who did indeed look wretched. Instead of the rather cocky attitude which was usual with him, he had a sheepish look, and he could not meet her gaze. Even his fur looked bedraggled.
    â€œI don’t know what to say, Mr. B., and that’s the truth,” she said. “When I think of the times he’s sat on my lap, purring while I stroked his fur—and of the saucers of cream I’ve given him—I just can’t understand it.” And then when Jinx shot a quick look at her, she deliberately winked at him.
    â€œWell I know what to say,” Mr. Bean returned. “I say get out of this kitchen and stay out! Don’t ever come in here again.”
    â€œNow, Mr. Bean,” said Simon, sitting up and rubbing his forepaws together, “let us not be hasty. Surely you see that our friend Jinx is doing the very best he can for you. He remembers, I am sure, your many kindnesses in the past, and is desirous of repaying them by befriending you during these troubled times.”
    â€œHe could best repay us by breaking your neck,” said the farmer.
    â€œTut, tut; such violent language!” said the rat with an oily smile. “Let us have no insults, I beg. Or I might find it necessary to invite my friends in.” He waved towards the window, outside which two tough and rangy-looking cows were peering in. “They would be only too happy to overturn your cookstove, and I presume there is a fire in it? Yes. And then what becomes of your pretty house? No, I think we can arrange things on a friendly basis. Eh, Jinx?”
    â€œEh?” said Jinx. “Oh … yes.” Then added with an attempt at great firmness: “We’ll stand no nonsense, Mr. and Mrs. Bean.”
    â€œExcellent!” said Simon. “And furthermore …? Eh—continue, Jinx.”
    â€œAnd furthermore,” said Jinx rather wildly, “while you will be allowed to remain in the house, you will obey my orders in everything. All the hay and grain and food will be in my charge. I will occupy the guest room, and will—”
    â€œWhy, you—!” Mr. Bean jumped to his feet and reached for the lid lifter on the stove. But Mrs. Bean was ahead of him. She pushed him aside. “None of that, Mr. B.,” she said firmly, and scowled at him with such ferocity that he sank back, puzzled, in his chair.
    â€œNow, Jinx,” she went on, “suppose you come up and show me just how you want the guest room fixed up for you.” She looked at him meaningly. “I remember there were some things about it you didn’t like, and as you are being so good as to let us stay in the house, I’d like to have everything satisfactory.”
    They went up the stairs together as they had hundreds of times in the past. Simon and Mr. Bean both looked after them doubtfully. Then Simon said: “I am glad that Mrs. Bean takes this so well. I realize that it will be a great change for you both, but—”
    â€œOh, shut up!” said Mr. Bean.
    Up in the guest room, Mrs. Bean closed the door, then got a broom from the closet. Jinx darted under the bed, but she only laughed. “No, Jinx,” she said. “I know what you’re up to. Now screech for all you’re worth.” And she began whacking the mattress with the broom. So Jinx gave it all he had. You could have heard him up at the duck pond.
    The two cows came up on the back porch