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Ewing, Juliana Horatia Gatty, 1841-1885

"A Flat Iron for a Farthing or Some Passages in the Life of an only Son"

I emptied it in obedience to her
orders, and in a few minutes my tears ceased, and I began to take a
more cheerful view of the wallpaper and the antimacassars.
"What a pretty cat!" I said, at last. The said cat, a beauty, was
lying on the hearthrug.
"Isn't it a beauty, love?" said Nurse Bundle; "and look, my dear, at
your own little dog lying as good as gold in the rocking-chair, and
not so much as looking at puss."
Rubens did not _quite_ deserve this panegyric. He lay in his chair
without touching puss, it is true; but he kept his eye firmly and
constantly fixed upon her, only restrained from an attack by my known
objection to such proceedings, and by the immovable composure of the
good lady herself. Half a movement of encouragement on my part, half a
movement of flight on the cat's, and Rubens would have been after her.
All this was so plainly expressed in his attitude, that I burst out
laughing. Rubens chose to take this as a sound to the chase, and only
by the most peremptory orders could I induce him to keep quiet. As to
the cat, I saw one convulsive twitch of the very tip of her tail,
eloquent of wrath; otherwise she never moved.
"Now, my dear," said Mrs.


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