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Updated: May 6, 2025
"Yes'm." "Whatever do you mean, Sarah?" asked Miss Ebag, even paler. The ladies Ebag were utterly convinced that Goldie was not like other cats, that he never went on the roof, that he never had any wish to do anything that was not in the strictest sense gentlemanly and correct.
The household consisted of old Caiaphas, bedridden, and his two daughters and Goldie. Goldie was the tomcat, so termed by reason of his splendid tawniness. Goldie had more to do with the Ebag marriage than anyone or anything, except the weathercock on the top of the house. This may sound queer, but is as naught to the queerness about to be unfolded.
The scandalous circumstances which led to the disappearance from the Oldcastle scene of Mr Skerritt, the original organist of St Placid, have no relation to the present narrative, which opens when the ladies Ebag began to seek for a new organist. The new church of St Placid owed its magnificent existence to the Ebag family.
At length the rain drove them in and they stood in the drawing-room with anxious faces, while two servants, under directions from Carl, searched the house for Goldie. "If you please'm," stammered the housemaid, rushing rather unconventionally into the drawing-room, "cook says she thinks Goldie must be on the roof, in the vane." "On the roof in the vane?" exclaimed Mrs Ebag, pale. "In the vane?"
They were also greatly impressed by his gentleness with Goldie and by his intelligent interest in serious questions. One day Miss Ebag said timidly to her sister: "It's just six months to-day." "What do you mean, sister?" asked Mrs Ebag, self-consciously. "Since Mr Ullman came." "So it is!" said Mrs Ebag, who was just as well aware of the date as the spinster was aware of it. They said no more.
Strictly speaking, they hadn't a cent between them, except his hundred a year. But he married her hair and she married his melancholy eyes; and she was content to settle in Oldcastle, where there are almost no slums. And her stepmother was forced by Edith to make the hundred up to four hundred. This was rather hard on Mrs Ebag.
Then there was silence; even the myowling had ceased. Then a clap of thunder; and then, after that, a terrific clatter on the roof, a bounding downwards as of a great stone, a curse, a horrid pause, and finally a terrific smashing of foliage and cracking of wood. Mrs Ebag sprang to the window. "It's all right," came a calm, gloomy voice from below.
It was at this juncture that words began to be said. Words! Not complete sentences! The sentences were never finished. "Of course, it's no affair of mine, but " "I wonder that people like the Ebags should " "Not that I should ever dream of hinting that " "First one and then the other well!" "I'm sure that if either Mrs or Miss Ebag had the slightest idea they'd at once " And so on.
It was Goldie's bedtime. In summer he always strolled into the garden after dinner, and he nearly always sensibly responded to the call when his bed-hour sounded. No one would have dreamed of retiring until Goldie was safely ensconced in his large basket under the stairs. "Naughty Goldie!" Miss Ebag said, comprehensively, to the garden.
He felt that he was in an atmosphere far removed from the commonplace. He dripped steadily on to the carpet. "You know how dear my cat was to me," proceeded Mrs Ebag. "And you risked your life to spare me the pain of his suffering, perhaps his death. How thankful I am that I insisted on having those rhododendrons planted just where they are fifteen years ago! I never anticipated " She stopped.
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