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Updated: May 28, 2025
On one of these occasions they were all three sitting happily together, and Ruth had just put a new brass collar which her father had bought round the cat's neck. "I don't want to go to Summerford," she said suddenly. "I'd much rather stay here with you." "And the cat," added Mr Lorimer as he kissed her. "Well, you must come back soon and take care of us both, you know."
Well, you're going to Summerford, you know, and then you'll see them all. I forget their names. Tommie, Mary, Carry, which is it?" Ruth gave a hopeless little sigh. She was so tired of these cousins. "It's none of them," she said shaking her head. "I don't want any of them." "Who is it, then?" "It's the kitchen cat." Mr. Lorimer started back with surprise at the unexpected words.
"Oh, we shall get rid of them at Summerford. You'll have real things to play with there, Ruth, you know. Lucy, and Cissie, and Bobbie will be better than fancies, won't they?" Ruth gave a faint little nod. She did not know what her aunt meant by "fancies." The cat was quite as real as Lucy, or Cissie, or Bobbie. Should she ask her about it, or did she hate cats like Nurse Smith?
On one of these occasions they were all three sitting happily together, and Ruth had just put a new brass collar which her father had bought round the cat's neck. "I don't want to go to Summerford," she said suddenly. "I'd much rather stay here with you." "And the cat," added Mr. Lorimer as he kissed her. "Well, you must come back soon and take care of us both, you know."
Aunt Clarkson's last remark came loud and clear: "We shall cure that at Summerford, Dr. Short. We're not dull people there, and we've no time for fancies." She smiled, the doctor smiled, they shook hands and both soon went away. Ruth leant her head on her hand. Was there no one who would understand how much she wanted to see the kitchen cat? Would they all talk about fancies?
Aunt Clarkson's last remark came loud and clear: "We shall cure that at Summerford, Dr Short. We're not dull people there, and we've no time for fancies." She smiled, the doctor smiled, they shook hands and both soon went away. Ruth leant her head on her hand. Was there no one who would understand how much she wanted to see the kitchen cat? Would they all talk about fancies?
Outside the wintry sun was streaming on the leafless trees and snowy lawns; some thrushes and sparrows were bathing in the pan of water that Katie had placed there that morning. "Let us go for a long walk this afternoon," Christine was saying, "through the Coombe Woods, and round by Summerford, and down by the quarry." "Even Bessie forgets that it will be Frank's birthday to-morrow," thought Mrs.
"One of your little cousins, I suppose? Well, you're going to Summerford, you know, and then you'll see them all. I forget their names. Tommie, Mary, Carry, which is it?" Ruth gave a hopeless little sigh. She was so tired of these cousins. "It's none of them," she said shaking her head. "I don't want any of them." "Who is it, then?" "It's the kitchen cat."
"Oh, we shall get rid of them at Summerford. You'll have real things to play with there, Ruth, you know. Lucy, and Cissie, and Bobbie will be better than fancies, won't they?" Ruth gave a faint little nod. She did not know what her aunt meant by "fancies". The cat was quite as real as Lucy, or Cissie, or Bobbie. Should she ask her about it, or did she hate cats like Nurse Smith?
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