The 101 Dalmatians Read Free Page A

reached the hall she went straight to Nanny Butler, who was seeing the guests out, and demanded, “Where are those puppies?”
    Nanny Butler had no intention of telling, but Cruella heard the Dearlys’ voices and ran upstairs. This time she was wearing a black satin dress with ropes of pearls, but the same absolutely simple white mink cloak. She had kept it round her all through dinner, although the room was very warm (and the pepper very hot).
    â€œI must, I must see the darling puppies,” she cried.
    The cupboard door was a little open. The Dearlys were inside, soothing Missis. Three puppies had been born before Nanny Butler, on bringing Missis a nourishing chicken dinner, had discovered what was happening.
    Cruella flung open the door and stared down at the three puppies.
    â€œBut they’re mongrels—all white, no spots at all!” she cried. “You must drown them at once.”
    Dalmatians are always born white,“ said Mr. Dearly, glaring at Cruella. ”The spots come later.“
    â€œAnd we wouldn’t drown them even if they were mongrels,” said Mrs. Dearly indignantly.
    â€œIt’d be quite easy,” said Cruella. “I’ve drowned dozens and dozens of my cat’s kittens. She always chooses some wretched alley-cat for their father, so they’re never worth keeping.”
    â€œSurely you leave her one kitten?” said Mrs. Dearly.
    â€œIf I’d done that, I’d be overrun with cats,” said Cruella. “Are you sure those horrid little white rats are pure Dalmatian puppies?”

    â€œQuite sure,” snapped Mr. Dearly. “Now please go away. You’re upsetting Missis.”
    And indeed Missis was upset. Even with the Dearlys there to protect her and her puppies, she was a little afraid of this tall woman with black-and-white hair who stared so hard. And that poor cat who had lost all those kittens! Never, never, would Missis forget that! (And one day she was to be glad that she remembered it.)
    â€œHow long will it be before the puppies are old enough to leave their mother?” asked Cruella. “In case I want to buy some.
    â€œSeven or eight weeks,” said Mr. Dearly. “But there won’t be any for sale.” Then he shut the cupboard door in Cruella’s face, and Nanny Butler firmly showed her out of the house.
    Nanny Cook was busy telephoning the Splendid Vet, but he was out on another case. His wife said she would tell him as soon as he came home and there was no need to worry—it sounded as if Missis was getting on very well.
    She certainly was. There was now a fourth puppy. Missis washed it, and then Mr. Dearly dried it, while Mrs. Dearly gave Missis a drink of warm milk. Then the pup was put with the other three, in a basket placed where Missis could see it. Soon she had a fifth puppy. Then a sixth—and a seventh.
    The night wore on. Eight puppies, nine puppies! Surely that would be all? Dalmatians do not often have more in their first family. Ten puppies! Eleven puppies!
    Then the twelfth arrived, and it did not look like its brothers and sisters. The flesh showing through its white hair was not a healthy pink but a sickly yellow. And instead of kicking its little legs, it lay quite still. The Nannies, who were sitting just outside the cupboard, told Mr. and Mrs. Dearly that it had been born dead.
    â€œBut with so many, its mother will never miss it,” said Nanny Cook comfortingly.
    Mr. Dearly held the tiny creature in the palm of his hand and looked at it sorrowfully.
    â€œIt isn’t fair it should have no life at all,” said Mrs. Dearly with tears in her eyes.
    Something he had once read came back to Mr. Dearly. He began to massage the puppy; then he tousled it gently in a towel. And suddenly there was a faint hint of pink around its nose—and then its whole little body was flushed with pink, beneath its snowy hair. Its legs moved! Its mouth opened! It was alive!
    Mr.