King of the Vagabonds Read Free Page A

tiny body than Stella, Molly and Josephine rolled into one.
    ‘Ours is a very kind mistress,’ Sammy informed Tiptoe loyally.
    ‘So I understand,’ came the reply, ‘and she’s been kind to me more than once, only she doesn’t know it. Tee hee.’
    ‘How?’
    ‘Oh, I often find scraps you cats or the dog have dropped or left behind. And then there’s your mistress’s own scraps too. We mice never go short, you know.’
    ‘I can see that,’ Sammy remarked. ‘But, you know, you’re very welcome to some of my food. I always have more than enough. You don’t have to wait for the scraps.’
    ‘Well, that’s a new notion, certainly,’ the mouse replied. ‘I suppose I should be grateful although, to behonest, I prefer my way of foraging around. That way, you never quite know what you may find. And then, a lot of what you eat doesn’t appeal to me at all.’
    ‘You’re very independent,’ said Sammy. He was comparing Tiptoe’s way of life with his own. The idea of actually having to look around for food had never entered his head.
    ‘Have to be, don’t I?’ Tiptoe laughed good-naturedly.
    ‘You remind me of my father,’ Sammy murmured.
    ‘Your father?’ Tiptoe cried. ‘Why, was he a mouse?’
    Sammy chuckled. ‘Of course not. But I believe he has to catch his own food.’
    ‘Cats of that sort don’t recommend themselves to me at all,’ replied the mouse. ‘Woe betide small creatures who cross their path. But I don’t remember seeing a grown male cat around?’
    ‘He’s not around,’ declared Sammy. ‘I don’t know where he is.’
    ‘Oh, I follow,’ Tiptoe muttered to himself. ‘One of the wandering sort.’
    ‘What?’ asked Sammy, who did not understand.
    Just then Stella stirred and they were interrupted. Tiptoe decided discretion was the better part of valour and scuttled away. Before he was quite out of earshot, Sammy begged him to come again and renew their friendship.
    ‘I will,’ squeaked Tiptoe. ‘Just when you least expect it. Tee hee!’
    ‘Sammy?’ It was Stella’s voice.
    ‘Yes, I’m here.’
    ‘Were you talking?’
    ‘Er – sort of. Mother, is my father a wandering sort of cat?’
    ‘Well now, I wonder what put that idea into your head,’ said Stella.
    ‘Because I’ve never seen him round here,’ Sammy said. Naturally he was not going to mention Tiptoe.
    ‘Why are you so concerned about him?’ she returned. ‘Josephine never asks.’ But there was just a suggestion of a wistful note in her voice which Sammy immediately detected.
    ‘I want to know what he’s like,’ he said eagerly. ‘Will I ever see him?’
    ‘You may – and you may not,’ Stella replied evasively. ‘I can’t tell. He hasn’t come this way for a long time.’
    ‘Oh, you’re just like Molly,’ Sammy wailed in exasperation. ‘She never gives anything away about him, and I’m sure she knows.’
    Stella had heard from Molly that Sammy was forever questioning her. She considered for a moment. She realized that the youngster was entitled to know some things about his father.
    ‘All right,’ she said. ‘Let’s sleep now. But I promise that tomorrow I’ll tell you a little about him.’
    That made the excited Sammy even less inclined to sleep but he knew he had to be content for the time being.
    The next morning he, Stella and Josephine lay in the shade underneath the apple tree. It was very warm. Mrs Lambert had given them milk and they were feeling refreshed and comfortable. Molly was lying on her side a little distance off on the grass, enjoying the full effect of the sun’s rays on her old bones. Sammy waited for his mother to keep her promise. At length she began.
    ‘You were asking if you would ever see your father. I can’t tell you, because his movements are very unpredictable. He makes an appearance quite unexpectedly and then, just as suddenly, he’ll depart. And no one will know where he’s going.’
    Molly’s ears had pricked up. She had been eaves-dropping.