The Adventures of Puss in Boots, Jr. Part 11

"Jockety jog, jockety jog!

My master's name is Roundey K. Rogg.

"Jockety jog, jockety jog!

He's a good man; he drinks no grog.

"Jockety jog, jockety jog!

Never does he old Naggetty flog."

"That's a blessing," said Puss, Jr. "I've seen so many poor horses whipped. It's a shame that a man can hurt a horse."

"Yes, a horse is a man's most faithful friend," replied old Naggetty.

"He works for him all the time."

"Don't you get tired?" asked Puss.

"No-o-o," replied the old horse, "not very tired. You see, when we start out we have the cans full. So we go very slowly so as not to churn the milk or spill it. If we went too fast the tops of the cans might fly off. Then on our way home, when all the milk has been delivered and all the hungry little children have had all they can drink, we come along at a good clip. The cans b.u.mp and make a most cheerful noise. And every step is nearer home, where my supper of oats is waiting for me, and my good master's supper is waiting for him."

"I'd like to climb up into your wagon and go home with you," said Puss.

"Do you suppose your master would object?"

"You can ask him," replied the old horse. "But you mustn't climb up until you do."

"Certainly not," replied Puss, indignantly. "I wouldn't take such a liberty. Tell me more about him." The old horse whisked his tail and commenced:

"Jockety jog, jockety jog!

I'll bear him safe through all this fog.

"Jockety jog, jockety jog!

How the darkness this way doth clog."

The old horse paused. "I was thinking of a dark night some time ago. The moon was hidden behind the clouds and not a star was to be seen. We had gone a long ways out of our usual track, for my master had heard of a poor woman who had a sick baby, and he said he must take her some fresh milk. When we started back for home it was already pretty dark, but I knew the road. My master left it all to me. He just let the reins hang down over the dashboard and gave me my head. So I kept along, taking good care not to stumble. The tin cans b.u.mped and banged together and the wheels creaked over the rough places. Master began to sing his favorite song:

"Place the little candle-light In the window clear and bright.

Tho' the night be dim and dark I shall see its tiny spark."

PUSS BUYS A PAIR OF BOOTS MADE FOR HIS FAMOUS SIRE

Solomon Grundy, Born on a Monday, Christened on Tuesday, Married on Wednesday, Took ill on Thursday, Worse on Friday, Died on Sat.u.r.day, Buried on Sunday.

This is the end of Solomon Grundy.

Puss, Jr., stood before a little shop. In the window was this sign. "Too bad," said Puss to himself; "he had such a nice little store."

"He did that!" cried a voice. Puss looked up and saw a little old woman.

On her head was a queer green bonnet and over her shoulders hung a faded red shawl. "Are you Mrs. Grundy?" asked Puss. For some reason he felt sure it was, so he was not at all surprised when she answered yes.

"And do you still run the little shop?" he asked.

"Yes, my good Sir Cat," she replied, "and I have a very fine pair of red-topped boots which I would like to sell you."

"I guess I need a new pair," said Puss, Jr., looking down at his own.

There was a big hole in the toe of one and the other was minus a heel.

"Walk in," said little old Mrs. Grundy, "and you may try them on." Puss followed her into the store and sat down. Mrs. Grundy climbed up a little step-ladder and took down a box from the top shelf. "This pair of boots," she said, "was made once upon a time, very long ago, for a very famous cat whose name was Puss in Boots."

At these words Puss, Jr., jumped off his seat and threw his paws around Mrs. Grundy.

"Gracious me!" she cried, "what are you doing?"

"Oh, my dear madam," cried Puss, "the famous cat you mention is my father--I am Puss in Boots, Junior."

"Is that possible?" exclaimed Mrs. Grundy, letting the box fall with a bang to the floor. "Is that possible? I'm so glad that I saved these boots all these years. And to think that his son will wear them," she added, sitting down in her excitement.

"But I don't care much about the boots!" cried Puss, Jr. "I want so badly to find my father. Can't you tell me where he lives?"

Mrs. Grundy looked puzzled. "I did know, my little friend," she replied, "but I have clean forgotten now. Indeed I have," she added, in a sympathetic voice, seeing how disappointed poor little Puss looked.

"Just the same, I will pay you well for the boots," said Puss, Jr., "and be on my way at once. One never can tell what each day may bring, and I might find my father, although it grieves me to think you have forgotten just where he lives."

PUSS MEETS A MODEST MENDING MAN AND A JOLLY MILLER

"If I'd as much money as I could spend I never would cry old chairs to mend; Old chairs to mend, old chairs to mend, I never would cry old chairs to mend.

"If I'd as much money as I could tell, I never would cry old clothes to sell; Old clothes to sell, old clothes to sell, I never would cry old clothes to sell."

"Well, what would you do?" asked Puss, Jr., coming up to the funny little man who was singing this song as he journeyed along over the roadway down the hill, across the bridge to the creaking mill.

"I'd buy a little house and a little cow and a little pig, and I'd live all the days of my life as happy as could be," replied the funny little man.

"That wouldn't take such an awful lot of money," replied Puss. "You said in your song if you had 'as much money as you could spend.' I should think that would mean a big castle and a big automobile and a big yacht, and, and--"

"I couldn't spend more than a little, for I've never had much practice in spending," answered the funny little man.

Before Puss could make reply they crossed the bridge and found themselves opposite the old mill. In the doorway stood the miller all covered with flour. His hat was dusty, too; even his hair and eyelashes were white with the dusty flour.

"Any old chairs to mend?" asked the funny little man.

"I have a stool here that has lost a leg," replied the miller, "and an old clock that has lost a hand, and my wife has a pitcher that has lost a mouth and a needle that has no eye. Can you mend them all?"

"You'd better call in the doctor," said the funny little man; "he's the person you want."