![]() By and by he called again, “Woman, pray tell me, are you so rich that you can afford to feed these filthy creatures?” “Then keep your lighthouse,” shouted Mikila, “and leave me alone.” “I belong here well enough,” called the man, “for I am keeper of the lighthouse.” “I belong here as well as you!” retorted Mikila. “It looks like a foolish woman,” replied the man rudely, “meddling where she doesn’t belong.” “What are you doing with that sack of food?” Partway up the slope, on a long, flat rock, a bearded old man sat looking down at her. “Where were you?” they seemed to say reproachfully. When the cats saw Mikila, they emerged from behind the rocks meowing, their tails held high. She arrived at the cliffs, panting and out of breath. Weary and sad as she was, Mikila hurried to the fishmonger, the butcher, and the grocer, and for a few pennies she gathered the scraps for her cats. Late in the afternoon she remembered the cats. One day Nella died, and Mikila was left all alone. They would clamber down among the rocks, calling, making certain that every cat got its share.Īfter each cat had eaten, up the rocky path the women climbed, slower now, and hot from the morning sun, talking as good friends do. The two women, Nella and Mikila, were good friends. Soon they came every morning, just after dawn, with sacks full of food-liver scraps, fish heads, and bread crusts. ![]() Two old women, noticing the cats, began to feed them. Down by the seaside, among the rugged rocks and cliffs and in the shadow of an old lighthouse, lived many, many cats of different kinds and different colors. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |