Sally in her fur coat

It rained that afternoon, a cold piercing rain and the thermometer went down. Nothing like the cold had been known for years in the month of May. But the kittens did not know this, as they had only weeks to judge by. They were afraid this sort of weather might last for many days.

‘Where can we spend the night?’ Sally asked Oxford Gray, Junior.

Oxford Gray, for once, was at a loss.

‘If only Elvira would come to the door of the gray house and see us, she would be sure to let us in.’

‘I don’t know about houses,’ said Sally. ‘Mother warned me about houses. She said she had lost faith in every one since her first owners were so unkind and left her to starve when they moved to another town.’

‘Father did not feel that way,’ said Oxford Gray, Junior. ‘He said Elvira let him into the house one night when there was a great snowstorm, whatever that is. He said if trouble ever came and we could get where Elvira could see us, we’d be safe and happy.’

‘Does the house belong to Elvira?’

‘Father wasn’t sure. He had been told it belonged to Miss Winifred Mann. But he said if it did, it seemed strange she should take so little interest in it. He said she seemed to be out of it most of the time, while Elvira stayed in it and made it look pretty and cooked lots of meals for people and cats, especially cats. Father said Miss Winifred wasn’t a bad sort, and that she could talk very pleasantly to a cat, but that was very little good if a fellow wanted a square meal. Anyway, the house is the thing to go to on a stormy night like this. Maybe this is a snowstorm.’

‘It can’t be,’ said Sally. ‘Father said snow was white, and that it made the earth look pretty. Oh, dear, I wish he hadn’t gone away.’

‘Brace up, Sally,’ said Oxford Gray, Junior, who felt it would be easier to brace up himself if he had the satisfaction of scolding some one.

‘Where are we to spend the night if we can’t get into the house?’ Sally asked. ‘That place under the piazza has been fixed so that nothing can get in any more.’

‘There are other places where we might find shelter,’ said Oxford Gray, Junior. ‘I’ll go and explore.’

‘I’ll come along with you,’ said Sally, who did not like to be left alone. ‘When I think of my brave father and my darling mother——’

‘Oh, shut up, Sally,’ said her brother.

As Sally was wise beyond her weeks, she knew that Oxford Gray, Junior, must be very cold and unhappy, or he would not be so cross, so with her usual wisdom she said:

‘Oxford Gray, Junior, you will have to be like a father to me, you are so brave, and I will try to be a mother to you; at least, I can be loving.’

At these words Oxford Gray, Junior, felt a pleasant glow about the region of his heart and the cold rain did not seem to matter so much. He did not say anything, for he was a shy kitten so far as expressing his feelings was concerned, but Sally knew by the expression of his face that he was pleased with her words.

‘If we are orphans, it is good to be twins,’ she said again.

The kittens wandered about in the heavy rain. They were cold and forlorn, but Sally did not dare to speak of her brave father or her kind mother again. The two houses that stood inside the same fence seemed asleep. No one came to any of the windows.

‘Let’s go down into the street,’ said Oxford Gray, Junior. ‘Perhaps in some of the houses on the street there will be some one who likes kittens.’

It was quite a long way to the street, down a winding avenue, so the kittens took a short cut through the Wild Wood, and when the street was reached Oxford Gray, Junior, was timid about crossing it, for automobiles were going by very fast.

‘It hardly seems safe for you to cross, Sally,’ he said. ‘I think I had better go and look around first.’

‘I don’t want to be left behind,’ said Sally, and before Oxford Gray, Junior, knew what she was doing, Sally had gone across the street so fast that it seemed as if she were flying. Oxford Gray, Junior, watched his chance and went across to join her.

They went along past the row of apartment houses, but no one came out to say a friendly word to the unfortunate kittens.

‘Let’s go around to the back of the houses,’ said Sally. ‘I’m very hungry. Maybe some one will give us something to eat.’

Oxford Gray, Junior, followed his enterprising sister, and there on the back porch of a house was a saucer of milk. They could hardly believe their eyes.

‘Didn’t I tell you,’ said Oxford Gray, Junior, ‘that something nice would happen?’

Oxford Gray, Junior, took his place on one side of the saucer of milk, and Sally took her place on the other side and they began to lap the milk in haste. When it was all but gone, they heard the opening of a door, and Sally saw an angry woman coming out of it.

‘You little thieves, you little scoundrels!’ said the woman. ‘You come and steal our cat’s milk!’

‘They were probably very hungry,’ said a man in a kind voice.

‘It’s bad enough to feed one cat, because you are so daft on them,’ said the woman, ‘but I can’t feed the whole neighborhood. Scat! Get away with you and never show your tiger faces here any more, you brats!’

The kittens fairly flew down the steps and out into the pouring rain.

‘Well, we had a good meal, anyhow,’ said Oxford Gray, Junior. ‘How could we tell the milk wasn’t meant for any kitten that got there first?’

They went back to the Wild Wood. It seemed more like home than any other place, and Oxford Gray, Junior, always had the hope that the door of the gray house on the hill might open and kind Elvira come out and welcome him.

At last they found an opening under one of the piazzas. This one had not as yet been fixed so that no animal could crawl in and take shelter there. It was a small hole, but large enough for Sally to get in easily. Oxford Gray, Junior, had to squeeze in.

‘Didn’t I tell you that we should find shelter?’ he said.

Sally wanted to say, ‘Oh, shut up!’ but, being wise beyond her weeks, she said nothing.

She did not like the shelter. It was not her idea of what a home should be. There were cracks in the boards that let in some of the rain, and there was a musty smell that she did not like, and it was cold, even there.

Oxford Gray, Junior, fell asleep long before she did. She stayed awake a long time, trying to plan out some way of getting into some warm house where they could have a fire and some good food to eat. Her mother had told her of such a house where she had spent her early days before her owners moved away and left her behind, and her brave father had told her of three where he had been an honored guest.

The rain kept on pattering on the boards overhead, and Sally grew more and more forlorn and thought of her brave father and her dear mother, and life seemed hard. She was provoked with her brother for taking things so calmly.

What should she do without him, though?

At last she went to sleep, repeating to herself her refrain, ‘If one has to be an orphan, it is better to be twins.’