Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 22, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 January 1912 — The Talking Cat [ARTICLE]

The Talking Cat

By LAWRENCE ALFRED CLAY

It bad been a marriage of love between Edward Chalmere and Irene Hope, but there had been a sting or two in the courtship. Neither one would have admitted to an atom of jealously in their make-up, but each had betrayed It The husband had been a popular young man, and the wife had had many admirers. They hadn’t been jealous enough to quarrel, but the feeling had not been quite dissipated. Before six months were up Mr. Chalmers came home from the insurance office where he worked, and •Wore. He had been bullied by his superior, and he said “damn it!" in plain, unmistakable English. The young wife ought to have realized as a girl that there are times when all men swear, and to have been prepared, but it hit her a surprising blow. She began to cry at once. Mr. Chalmers having arrived at the age of twenty-four and having a bowing acquaintance with at least 50 women, ranging from old married women to girls in short dresses, should have realized that no wife cries in order to irritate her husband. They weep because the dressmaker disappointed them, or because the latest thing in hats doesn’t become them. They have been known to Bob over the erroneous idea that this is a sad old world. , Mr. Chalmers wasn’t posted on this point, and therefore when the wife wept he took it as a personal affront He had been bullied at the office, and now she was rubbing it in on him at home. All the rest of us could have straightened things out ir 15 minutes and then gone to the theater, but this misunderstanding hung on. There were dinner and tears and mental oaths, and romance jumped the fence and disappeared in the bushes. Things ' might have changed for the better next day but for the god of chance. The wife went to the butcher’s to order meat, and on the way met Jerry Simpson. Jerry was one of her old admirers, but the admiration was all on his side. At any other time he would havq been passed, with a cold nod. Now it was different. Mrs. Chalmers was mad at her husband. She stopped and shook hands with Jerry and told him how glad she was to see him, and at the end of ten minutes she thought she had done a smart thing At lunch hour, when Mr. Chalmers went out for his bite, he met Miss Cator. There was once a report that they were engaged. At any rate, they were pretty good friends. He was glad to see her, because he knew that his bride didn’t like her a bit. He was so glad: that he asked her to lunch with him,. and the bill presented by the waiter took his last nickel. The-Chalmers had a cat. She wasn’t anything to boast of as a cat, but good enough to begin housekeeping on. Mr. Chalmers entered the house with hiß mind made up not to Bpeak first All the husbands he had ever talked with had told him that in case of a family row the husband must hold himself as stiff as a poker and make the wife do tbe kneeling act; Mrs. Chalmers had decided not to rush forward and greet him with a kiss She might look up as he entered, and if encouraging she might smile, but beyond that it must be a mutual thing. Only two weeks previously her married sister had solemnly said to her: “Irene, you and Ed will have a quarrel some day.” “Never!” “It may be your fault and it may be his, but stand on pour dignity. Don’t be the first to give in. If you do the heel of the tyrant will be on your neck forever.” ■'-*' Well, the tyrant was there with his heel. Just let him try to put it on her proud neck! For a moment he seemed Inclined to, and then turned to the cat. “Well, pussy, it’s been a cool nay,” said Mr. Chalmers: “Yes, pussy, it has,” said the wife. “Pussy, you can tell your mistress that this looks like a mighty poor dinner for a hungry man.” “And, pußsy, you can tell your master that he trotted off this morning without leaving any market money.” It wasn’t the case of a person talking through his hat. but talking through his cat. The feline stretched and yawned and purred, and seemed to say: “Oh, cut it out!” but she was held to her job. That evening, for the first time since his marriage, Mr. Chalmers thought of hiis lodge. Before leaving the house he said to the cat: “Pussy, I am going to my lodge tonight. and 1 may Bot be home much before midnight.” - ~ And while Pussy closed her eyes and didn’t appear to care a cent where he went or when he got back, „ the reply came from the wife: “Pussy, I am going over to see sister, and I may not be back much before one o’clock ip the morning." Mr. Chalmers did not go to his lodge. That was all a bluff. Mrs. Ilgfteimar* did not go to her sister’s. t that was all a bluff to match the other bluff At the back end of the grounds they occupied was a pond. created it for a fish pond. He had also buiU a pagoda on its brink. His idea wag to sit in that pagoda at evening tide or some other Uds and 35£ Jtf" • k.

watch the fish swimming about, but before he had done any sitting or watching he Jbad failed in the leather business and lost his property. When Mr. Chalmers left the house he went to a tobacconists five blocks away and bought some cigars. Then he returned and made for the pagoda and the pond. There was some thinking to be done, and there was the place to do it. If the former owner had done more thinking there he might not have failed. He had just lit up and got comfortably settled down and called himself three kinds of an Miot, when footsteps were beard approaching. The night was not so dark but that he could recognize his wife while yet 20 feet away. She had come out there to sit and think She scented the cigar smoke and knew that she was forestalled, but she came right i n and took a seat on the bench. The eat wasn’t there, but the wife spoke up to say: “Pussy, you can’t blame me a bit. I was told that he had that Helen Cator out to lunch. You know 1 never liked her nor she me. Of course, he did it to spite me.” The husband drew a long puff and cleared his throat and replied: “Yes, pusjy, but what of that idiot Jerry Simpson? She stood talking to him for the best part of an hour yesterday, and right on the street, too. Why, the man doesn’t know enough to pound sand, but she laid herself out to be extra charming." “But Miss Cator once said I*d be good-looking but for my face!” “And that ass of a Simpson once asked me if I was bow-legged at my birth!’’ “Pussy, the husband always begins a family row, and be should be the l first —” “Pussy, don’t you believe It. A wife with a temper can—” “And he has gone to his lodge hoping I would cry all the evening!” “And she has gone to her sister’s to get braced up to —” The cat wasn’t there, but the angels were. They folded their wings and reached out their hands and pulled that old pagoda into the old pond. Some folks would have said that the water had undermined the bank and brought about a cave-in, but the angels knew. The water was cold. There was mud with it. There Were shouts of alariq—choking—gasping—wading, ashore, and then a long, wet and muddy embrace. '"Oh, Eddie dear, what —what —” "Yes, what fobls!” —— “And Helen Cator and Jerry Simpson!”