id="Page_19" class="x-ebookmaker-pageno" title="[19]"/>she ran down the lawn towards the garden door, hoping to find it again open. Alas! the ill-natured gardener had shut it quite fast. However, Friskarina was not easily daunted; a cat of genius is never without resources. She turned her eyes towards a thick trailing of ivy that grew up the wall, and she began to wonder whether cousin Glumdalkin would be likely to spy her out if she climbed up the ivy-tree, and so got over the wall that way. She considered, however, that on such a morning as that, Glumdalkin would be sure to be on the hearth-rug, with her nose as close to the fender as possible, not troubling her head in the least about the world out of doors.

So, making a vigorous spring, Friskarina was soon half-way up the ivy-tree, shaking down a shower of white flakes every jump she made. At length she was fairly at the top of the wall. It was a terrible height from the ground, and there was no ivy on the other side to help her down by.

So she sat down to rest, and look about her a minute. The miserable cottages looked still more miserable than they had done the day before—the snow lay thick on their roofs—no smoke issued from their chimneys—no one seemed stirring about them. Nothing could well be more desolate.

Suddenly, the door of one of them opened, and an old woman came out, followed by Friskarina's new friend, the unhappy cat. Such an old woman Friskarina had never beheld, nor imagined, before. She was not a bit like the Lady Dumbellinda, the princess's governess, the only old lady Friskarina had ever seen, for she was very fat, and had very rosy cheeks, and very smooth hair, in set curls that never seemed to get out of order; and she had very fine velvet gowns, and beautiful clothes. But this poor old woman, who came out of the hut, was all shrivelled up, as it were, and seemed as if she had hardly a bit of flesh on her bones, and her hair was nearly as white as the snow, and the wind blew it from under her cap in all directions; she had an old rag of a gray cloak on, that she tried to keep about her, with one hand, as well as she could, but the wind got in so through the holes, that she might almost as well have been without it. She had come out to look for sticks; for the gusts that swept down from the hills snapped off the little twigs from the tall trees, and scattered them about the road. After picking up a few, the poor old creature, shaking her head, and shivering beneath the cold blast, turned back, and re-entered her cottage; shutting her door after her, so that her cat was left without. Poor pussy soon spied her friend, who had spoken so condescendingly to her the day before, on the top of the wall, and she saluted her with an air of the greatest deference and humility.

Friskarina returned her a gracious bow, and, without further hesitation, dropped down from the wall.

It was lucky for her that there was a good thick bed of snow at the bottom, so that she fell soft; but she rolled quite over. However, she was nothing the worse, and she ran up to her new acquaintance; and, after remarking what a snowy morning it was, demanded her name.

'My mistress calls me Tibb, please your ladyship;' said the poor little cat, shaking with the cold.

'I did not know whether I should see you this morning,' pursued Friskarina, 'I thought you might be sitting by the fire all day, as it is so very cold.'

'Dear ma'am, we have no fire!' exclaimed poor Tibb, as if astonished at the very idea of such a luxury; 'my mistress won't have a fire till she wants to boil her dinner.'

'Then how do you ever keep yourself warm?' asked Friskarina, quite horror-struck.

'Please, my lady, I never am warm,' said poor Tibb, in a very melancholy voice.

Friskarina was ready to cry, 'And you say they never give you any dinner, either?' she said.

'Very seldom, indeed, your ladyship.'

'But your mistress must be dreadfully cruel,' exclaimed Friskarina, 'to take no more care of you than that!'

'What can she do?' replied Tibb, 'she has not got enough for herself and her daughter, so it is not likely she can give me anything. If your gracious ladyship would just please to step this way, and peep under the door, you will see how my mistress lives.' So saying, Tibb led the way to the hut; and Friskarina, crouching down to a very wide chink under the door, saw a dwelling, the mere notion of which had never entered her imagination till that moment.

'And have you lived here all your life?' she said, drawing back at length, and looking with the most sincere compassion at Tibb.

'Where else could I go, my lady?' replied the poor cat; 'it is better than lying in the road.'

'And you absolutely don't know what it is to have a good dinner? How very shocking! But now listen to me, Tibb; do you think you can manage to climb over that wall?'

'I can but try,' replied Tibb, looking as if she began to have an indistinct idea that her new friend meant to do something for her.

'Then,' continued Friskarina, 'if you will follow me, and keep quiet behind the trees in the garden, I will give you part of my dinner every day.'

Tibb's eyes sparkled as they had never sparkled before, at this generous proposal; and, running to the wall, by the help of a projecting stone here and there, she was presently at the top; then, turning round, she watched Friskarina ascending after her. To scramble down by the ivy-branches was the work of a moment, and the two cats were soon hidden behind some low evergreen bushes that grew in front of the wall.

'Now lie quiet here,' said Friskarina, 'till I come and call you.' So saying, she scampered off through the snow towards the palace. The door of the princess's drawing-room was not quite shut, so Friskarina softly pushed it a little open, and peeped cautiously in.

Just as she expected, there sat Glumdalkin, on a high stool close by the fire, looking more solid than ever, and her back so awfully broad! Moreover, she did not look by any means in the best of humors; but she unbuttoned her eyes a very little atom as Friskarina came towards the fire, and in a very gruff voice, asked her where she had been so long?

'I'll tell you directly,' replied Friskarina; 'but really I must get a little warm first, my jaws are quite stiff.'

'And it serves you right, too,' remarked the amiable Glumdalkin; 'if you will go out in the snow, when you might have a good warm house over your head, and sit by the fire, you must take the consequences.'

Now, from some cause or other, Friskarina felt just then in a very particularly good humor; so she answered, in a very cheerful tone, that she was quite ready to take all the consequences, and that she hoped some good ones, at least, would follow from her going out that morning.—'Though, indeed,' she added, 'I have been seeing some very sad things.'

'Then, as sure as cream is cream,' exclaimed Glumdalkin, quite fiercely, 'you've been talking to that good-for-nothing wretch of a cat again. I am astonished at you, Friskarina!'

'Now, my dear cousin,' answered Friskarina, very quietly, 'just hear me—let us talk the matter over a little: I am sure you would feel just as I do about it, if you had been with me this morning.'

'Humph,' muttered Glumdalkin, 'I'm not sure of that at all. But, tell your story, child. We shan't have any peace, I suppose, till you have.'

Friskarina gulphed down a rather sharp speech that was just at the end of her tongue, and went on with the recital of her adventures:—'I have certainly seen the poor cat;