The Adventures of Puss in Boots, Jr. Part 10

"But you haven't answered my question yet," said Puss.

"Oh," replied the miller. "You mean because I care for n.o.body and n.o.body cares for me."

"Yes; I don't quite understand it."

"Come inside and I'll explain it to you," said the miller.

Puss walked inside and sat down on a bag of flour. "All I do is to grind corn for people," continued the miller, sitting down on a dusty stool.

"They bring their corn in to be ground and then they leave. When they come back the corn is ready for them,--that is, the flour. They take it away and I'm left all alone. So what do I do? Well, I make friends with a little mouse and a big rat that live in the old mill." As he spoke the little mouse ran out of her hole and sat down by the miller. "We are great friends, aren't we, mousie?" he said.

The little mouse squeaked, "Yes, Mr. Miller."

Then the big rat came out and sat down by the miller, only on the other side.

"Aren't we great friends?" asked the miller.

The rat said, "You are the best friend I have." At which the miller smiled and Puss grinned.

"Animals make good friends," said the miller.

"Yes, indeed," replied Puss, "but rats and mice are so destructive. They eat your corn."

"Not much," said the miller; "only a little bit."

"We only eat what we need," said the mouse and the rat in chorus.

PUSS, JR., RENDERS A MOTHER AID

Puss, Jr., was very much interested in the jolly miller and his two small friends, the rat and the mouse. It seemed strange to Puss that a miller should have two such friends as these. But when he thought it over he saw there was much reason to the miller's words.

At the time the miller was talking the mouse and the rat kept a close watch on Puss, Jr. They knew from experience, most likely, that cats are not millers, and although Puss, Jr., with his boots and cap, his clothes and staff, did not resemble an ordinary cat, at the same time he was a cat. So the rat and the mouse kept at a safe distance.

"Tell your little friends," said Puss to the jolly miller, "that I won't hurt a hair of them."

"Mousie," said the miller, leaning over and patting the little mouse, "Sir Cat says he will not harm a hair of your tiny head."

"That's very kind of him," replied the little mouse in a squeaky voice.

The rat made the same answer when the miller patted him.

Just then the mother of the baby who was in the cradle on the tree-top came by. She smiled at the miller, who took off his rusty, dusty cap.

"There she goes," he said to Puss. "She's going to take the cradle down now. She'll take 'cradle, and baby, and all' home with her."

Puss stepped to the doorway to watch her. First she stood on tiptoe and looked into the cradle. Then she smiled and leaned over and kissed the baby, who began to crow and clap his hands. After she had kissed him many times she lifted him out of the cradle and danced him up and down on her knee. As she danced him gently up and down, she sang:

"Down in the village, all the day long, Mother's been singing a sweet little song; Just to herself she's been singing all day, While baby's been rocking and rocking away: 'Hush-a-by, baby, upon the tree-top, Mother is watching the tick-tocky clock; Counting the minutes go by until she Will be taking her baby boy down from the tree.'"

Then she laid the baby over her shoulder and, picking up the cradle, started off for home.

"Let me carry the cradle for you," said Puss, Jr., running out of the mill.

"That would be a great help," she replied, "for baby is getting very heavy, and mother has been working hard all day."

So Puss put the cradle on his shoulder and, bowing to the miller, followed after her, while the baby kicked and crowed and tried to reach down and pull his whiskers. And Puss tickled the baby's hand and winked at the baby, who gurgled and laughed and tried to pull the feather out of Puss, Jr.'s, cap. And the little mother forgot all about her own weariness, for baby lay so warm against her neck and his laugh tinkled so sweetly in her ear!

THE MILKMAN'S HORSE, OLD NAGGETTY NOGG

"Jockety jog, jockety jog!

Over the hills, and over the bog.

"Jockety jog, jockety jog!

Many a mile this day I've trod.

"Jockety jog, jockety jog!

I'm the milkman's horse, old Naggetty Nogg."

"Are you really?" exclaimed Puss, Jr., looking up into the face of the old white horse. "And is your name 'Naggetty Nogg'?"

"Yes, that's my name," replied the old horse. "You see, every horse is a nag. So in some way or another they got to calling me 'Naggetty,' and then, after a while, they added on the 'Nogg.'"

"Yes, every one has at least two names," replied Puss, "and it is natural that you should have two, just like everybody. I like the name 'Naggetty Nogg' very much. It's quite fine."

"It sounds 'horsy' all right," he answered, giving his tail a sweep to brush off some flies that had settled on his side. "It sounds real horsy."

"And it fits you perfectly," said Puss. "You couldn't have chosen a better name."

"But I didn't choose it," replied the old horse, quickly; "it was given to me. You see, my master and I start out early every morning. First we go to the farm to get the milk. It's so early in the morning that it's quite dark sometimes--that is, in the winter-time. The farmer comes out and opens the milk-house door with his key. The milk is all kept in great big pans in long rows. It's very cool inside, for the milk-house is built over a spring that bubbles away all the time, running out of the old stone milk-house down to the meadows, where the cows drink it and the little fish swim in it. I know, because one time when my right forefoot was hurt they put me out in the meadow and many a good drink I've had from that same little brook. The bottom is all bright little stones, and the ferns hang over the edge of the bank, and the little birds hop down and drink. Oh, it's very pleasant out there in the meadow. I sometimes wish my old foot would go lame again so that I might enjoy the green gra.s.s and the cool breezes. But that wouldn't do at all.

My master would lose money. He would have to hire another horse. And then, too, I would miss the mothers who come out to get the nice fresh milk from my master. Sometimes they have a baby in their arms and two or three small children hanging on to their skirts. And they always pat my nose and say:

"'How is old Naggetty Nogg to-day?' Sometimes I get a lump of sugar, too."

"You make me wish that I could drive a milk-wagon," said Puss, Jr., with a sigh. "I'd like to be a milkman if I had a Naggetty Nogg to drive."

WHO IS A MAN'S MOST FAITHFUL FRIEND?

"What is your master's name?" asked Puss, Jr., as the old white milk-horse paused in his story.