footsteps, because, through the whirling nightmare of snow, they had caught glimpses of the lights of the village.
The landlord came bustling out to meet them, assuring them of roaring fires and good food. "And some milk and food for my cat," said Emily.
"Well, now, my lady, if you'll just give me the creature, I'll take it along to the kitchens."
"No," said Emily firmly. "I want it here with me."
Felice rolled her black eyes to the rafters. Cat mania was setting in early.
Emily felt they were all too exhausted to stand on ceremony and insisted that after the horses were rubbed down, fed, and stabled, they should all eat together in the dining room of the inn.
She regretted her democratic impulse after the food had been served. Felice was quite at ease, although her black eyes kept sliding to the cat, crouched on the floor and noisily lapping at a saucer of milk. But the menservants were silent and awkward, and Emily realized that they would have been much happier without her. But she was too hungry to really care.
At last Felice excused herself, saying she wished to go abovestairs to see to the unpacking of my lady's trunks.
"And I will take your little cat with me," Felice crooned, bending over Peter, who crouched away from her.
"Leave him," said Emily. "I will bring him up in a minute."
"But it is better to do it quietly, no?" urged Felice. "These landlords, often they not like animals in the bedchambers."
"Very well," said Emily. "I will join you shortly. Oh, do not be so _rough,_ Felice!" For Felice had seized the cat by the scruff of its neck.
Felice gave a sycophantic smile and exited, holding the cat firmly to her bosom.
The maid marched upstairs to the bedchamber where a fire was burning brightly. The room was as clean as a new pin. A shame to sully it with paw marks and hair.
Felice crossed to the window and tugged at the latch with one hand, holding firmly onto Peter who gave a _miaow_ of protest. The window swung open, letting in a flurry of snow. Felice threw the cat as far as she could, slammed the window, and set about mopping up the traces of melting snow from the floor.
"That's that," thought the maid, feeling more cheerful. "Good-bye cat! I will say it ran off."
But Felice felt less cheerful when her mistress entered the bedchamber, some ten minutes later, carrying a small dish of chopped liver.
"Peter!" said my lady. "Only look what I have for you. Here, puss, puss, puss!"
Felice compressed her lips and turned down the bedcovers.
"Where is the cat?" demanded Emily sharply.
"I do not know, my lady," said the maid, without turning around. "Perhaps he go away."
"Perhaps nothing," snapped Emily. "What have you done with him?"
"Me? But nothing, I assure you, my lady."
Emily got down on her hands and knees and searched under the bed and under the furniture. She found the still damp, recently cleaned patch under the window.
"What's this, Felice?" she cried. "Did you open the window?"
"As God is my witness," said the maid, folding her hands over the black silk of her gown and turning her eyes up so that the whites showed.
"I don't believe you," said Emily. "You wicked, wicked girl. You _smell_ of guilt."
Emily ran out of the room and down the stairs. The noise from the dining room was very cheerful and jolly. The servants were obviously relaxing, enjoying their own company. Emily hesitated, her hand on the door of the dining room. To summon the exhausted servants to help her look for a mere kitten would be a disgraceful thing to do. She simply must try to find Peter on her own. With a little sigh, she put the hood of her cloak up about her head, and, wrapping herself firmly in its folds, she let herself out of the inn into the howling white wilderness outside.
* * * *
The Earl of Devenham arrived some fifteen minutes later in a very bad temper indeed. He had lost his way in the storm several times. He was frozen to the bone. The landlord assured him that my lady was well, and this only
The landlord came bustling out to meet them, assuring them of roaring fires and good food. "And some milk and food for my cat," said Emily.
"Well, now, my lady, if you'll just give me the creature, I'll take it along to the kitchens."
"No," said Emily firmly. "I want it here with me."
Felice rolled her black eyes to the rafters. Cat mania was setting in early.
Emily felt they were all too exhausted to stand on ceremony and insisted that after the horses were rubbed down, fed, and stabled, they should all eat together in the dining room of the inn.
She regretted her democratic impulse after the food had been served. Felice was quite at ease, although her black eyes kept sliding to the cat, crouched on the floor and noisily lapping at a saucer of milk. But the menservants were silent and awkward, and Emily realized that they would have been much happier without her. But she was too hungry to really care.
At last Felice excused herself, saying she wished to go abovestairs to see to the unpacking of my lady's trunks.
"And I will take your little cat with me," Felice crooned, bending over Peter, who crouched away from her.
"Leave him," said Emily. "I will bring him up in a minute."
"But it is better to do it quietly, no?" urged Felice. "These landlords, often they not like animals in the bedchambers."
"Very well," said Emily. "I will join you shortly. Oh, do not be so _rough,_ Felice!" For Felice had seized the cat by the scruff of its neck.
Felice gave a sycophantic smile and exited, holding the cat firmly to her bosom.
The maid marched upstairs to the bedchamber where a fire was burning brightly. The room was as clean as a new pin. A shame to sully it with paw marks and hair.
Felice crossed to the window and tugged at the latch with one hand, holding firmly onto Peter who gave a _miaow_ of protest. The window swung open, letting in a flurry of snow. Felice threw the cat as far as she could, slammed the window, and set about mopping up the traces of melting snow from the floor.
"That's that," thought the maid, feeling more cheerful. "Good-bye cat! I will say it ran off."
But Felice felt less cheerful when her mistress entered the bedchamber, some ten minutes later, carrying a small dish of chopped liver.
"Peter!" said my lady. "Only look what I have for you. Here, puss, puss, puss!"
Felice compressed her lips and turned down the bedcovers.
"Where is the cat?" demanded Emily sharply.
"I do not know, my lady," said the maid, without turning around. "Perhaps he go away."
"Perhaps nothing," snapped Emily. "What have you done with him?"
"Me? But nothing, I assure you, my lady."
Emily got down on her hands and knees and searched under the bed and under the furniture. She found the still damp, recently cleaned patch under the window.
"What's this, Felice?" she cried. "Did you open the window?"
"As God is my witness," said the maid, folding her hands over the black silk of her gown and turning her eyes up so that the whites showed.
"I don't believe you," said Emily. "You wicked, wicked girl. You _smell_ of guilt."
Emily ran out of the room and down the stairs. The noise from the dining room was very cheerful and jolly. The servants were obviously relaxing, enjoying their own company. Emily hesitated, her hand on the door of the dining room. To summon the exhausted servants to help her look for a mere kitten would be a disgraceful thing to do. She simply must try to find Peter on her own. With a little sigh, she put the hood of her cloak up about her head, and, wrapping herself firmly in its folds, she let herself out of the inn into the howling white wilderness outside.
* * * *
The Earl of Devenham arrived some fifteen minutes later in a very bad temper indeed. He had lost his way in the storm several times. He was frozen to the bone. The landlord assured him that my lady was well, and this only
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