The Adventures of Puss in Boots, Jr. Part 9

Over the candlestick leaped a small boy, and with a laugh turned toward the open door.

"Can _you_ jump over a lighted candlestick?" he asked.

"I never tried," said Puss, "but I guess I can."

"Don't singe your tail!" cried Jack, as Puss prepared himself for the jump.

"Don't worry," replied Puss, Jr. "I think too much of my tail to spoil one single little hair."

Gathering himself together, Puss jumped nimbly over the candle.

"Good for you!" cried the little boy.

"Oh, that's nothing," replied Puss. "I once belonged to a circus."

"You did?" cried the little boy. "Tell me about it."

"Well," said Puss, "there isn't much to tell. I was walking along one day and came up to a big tent. A man asked me if I would not like to join, and I said yes."

"What did you do?" asked the little boy.

"Oh, I rode a horse around the ring. I jumped through hoops covered with tissue-paper, and I never slipped off. It was pretty good fun," sighed Puss, Jr. "But, dear me, I'm so hungry! Can't you get me some milk?"

"Of course I can," replied the little boy; "you just sit down and see that the candle doesn't blow out, and I'll run and tell mother." In a few minutes he returned, followed by a motherly-looking woman.

"Why, it's Puss in Boots!" she said.

"No, madam," replied Puss; "but I'm his son, and have been these many months trying to find my dear father."

"And you haven't found him yet?" said the good woman.

"No, not yet," replied our little hero, "but I hope to very soon."

"Well, you shall have a good supper," said the kind woman, "for my little boy tells me you are hungry."

In a few minutes Puss was eating a hearty supper, and then he followed the little boy up to his bedroom, where they both slept soundly all night long after mother had blown out the light.

OLD KING COLE'S FIDDLERS ARE RATHER RUDE TO PUSS

Old King Cole was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he; And he called for his pipe, And he called for his bowl, And he called for his fiddlers three.

And every fiddler, he had a fine fiddle, And a very fine fiddle had he; "Tweedle dee, tweedle dee," said the fiddlers; "Oh, there's none so rare as can compare, With Old King Cole and his fiddlers three."

Cole Castle was a very magnificent one. Puss looked up at the great walls and sighed. "I wish I would find my dear father here, but I suppose I won't."

"No, you won't," cried a voice, and one of the three fiddlers poked his head out of a window and laughed loud and long. "There are no cats in this castle."

"No cats allowed here," cried the third fiddler, appearing at the postern gate.

Puss, Jr., almost felt like crying. "Did you ever hear of Puss in Boots?" he asked.

"Certainly," replied all three fiddlers at once, "but he doesn't live here. No cats do. We make all the noise in this castle. You don't think for a moment Old King Cole could stand any more noise, do you?"

"My father wouldn't make any noise," replied Puss, Jr., indignantly.

"I never heard of a cat that didn't," said one of the fiddlers.

"All cats make an awful noise at night," said another.

"They meow and cry like everything on the back fence," said the third fiddler. "They make more noise than a fiddle, and a worse noise than a fiddle out of tune."

"I don't like you," said Puss. "People who don't like cats are not to be trusted."

"Ha, ha!" laughed all three fiddlers, "you're jealous of us!"

"Not the least," replied Puss, stoutly. "I'm not jealous at all. I'm just indignant that you should make such a remark about my family."

"No harm meant," said the three fiddlers, "no harm meant, my good Sir Cat."

"Very well, we won't argue the matter," said Puss, "for a traveler has no time to argue if he would reach his journey's end. Time is precious, and I must be on my way. Only let me tell you, I have heard many a fiddle that made a worse noise than a cat," and with this parting remark our little hero continued on his way.

THE MILLER OF THE DEE

"What a lovely old mill!" thought Puss, Jr. "Is that your 'hush-a-by baby upon the tree-top'?" he asked the miller on entering the old mill.

"No, sir-ee!" answered the jolly miller, with a jolly laugh. "Haven't you ever heard the song about me? This is the way it goes:

"There was a jolly miller once Lived on the River Dee; He worked and sang from morn till night, No lark so blithe as he.

"And this the burden of his song Forever used to be: 'I care for n.o.body! No, not I!

And n.o.body cares for me!'"

"Doesn't anybody care for you?" asked Puss. "It seems strange, for you are so jolly."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "AREN'T WE GREAT FRIENDS?" ASKED THE MILLER]

"Well," answered the miller, "you see, it's this way: I am here all alone all day; there's no room in the mill except for me and the sacks of corn. It all belongs to me, even the old willow-tree. I let a little woman who lives quite near here hang the cradle on the limb every morning. As she goes to work in the village, she puts her baby in the cradle and the wind rocks it to sleep until she comes back at noon. Then she goes away again and comes back at evening and takes the cradle home with her. The baby is very good; that is, it has been so far; but you can never tell how long a baby will be good."

"That's true of every one," said Puss, with much gravity.

"If it ever starts crying--that is, a long crying spell, she'll have to get another willow-tree or another baby. I can't be bothered with a crying baby so close at hand."