Read Online Harry Cat's Pet Puppy by George Selden - Free Book Online

of them.”
    â€œBut how many rooms?” interrupted Tucker.
    â€œWell—” Harry counted on his paws. “The kitchen, the dining room, living room, the music room, Mr. Smedley’s bedroom—he has a big brass bedstead—the guest bedroom, those rooms at the back—at least eight or nine, I guess.”
    â€œEight or nine!” Tucker rubbed his claws together in glee. “That means Huppy can have one all to himself. We could maybe even set up a little summer place for ourselves.”
    â€œThe most interesting one is the music room. There’s a big piano there, a grand, and a second, littler one. I guess for teaching he sometimes plays along with his students. And the walls are lined with bookshelves full of books of music and opera librettos—and records. The one new thing in the whole apartment is a beautiful hi-fi set, with four speakers. But even there—”
    â€œWhat even there?” Tucker heard the change come in Harry’s voice, as the cat stopped to think.
    â€œI mean, even with the hi-fi set there’s a feeling of oldness. I don’t mean oldness—I like old things—but mustiness. And a sicklish sweetness in the air. It’s especially strong in the living room. Not dust or dirt—everything’s all clean—but you know that the sofa has not been moved for years. And the glass candlesticks on the mantelpiece—they have got to be in exactly the spot where Mr. Smedley’s mother left them.”
    â€œFresh air!” diagnosed Tucker Mouse. “That’s all Mr. Smedley needs. And fresh life.” He poked his friend in the ribs. “That’s something that we can provide—eh, Harry?”
    â€œFresh life,” mused Harry. “I was thinking something like that myself as I looked all around that crowded living room. Then I heard it.”
    â€œHeard what?”
    â€œA voice.” Harry paused—not to tease, but reliving the eerie memory.
    *   *   *
    â€œHarry—if you wouldn’t drive me crazy, please. Talk!”
    â€œA voice.” Harry shook himself into the present. “From somewhere above me. It said, ‘Well, sir—and now that you’ve seen everything, might I ask what it is that you mean to steal?’”
    â€œA ghost!” exclaimed Tucker. “The apartment is haunted!”
    â€œIt’s haunted, all right. But not by the kind of ghost you think. I looked up, where the voice was coming from. Against one wall there’s this secretary. That’s a big old elaborate desk with a bookcase built on top of it, and glass doors to the bookcase. The top shelf of this particular secretary was full of china animals. There were birds, a monkey, a china collie—and a life-size china Siamese cat. Which was not made of china! In the dim light filtering in from the hall I saw the cat’s eyes slowly close and open.”
    â€œOh, my gosh—”
    â€œOh, my gosh is right, Mousiekins. Mr. Smedley already has a pet—and her name is Miss Catherine. It was her that he was talking to, not himself. And it also was from her—I found out when she jumped down beside me—that that weak sweet smell in the air came from. Mr. Smedley puts a drop of perfume on her every now and then.”
    â€œ Per -fume!” gasped Tucker.
    â€œTo the desk, to the floor, right beside me she jumped. And repeated, ‘Well?’ in an outraged voice. ‘If there’s nothing to satisfy a thief here, there’s some silver in the dining room!’”
    â€œHarry—I wouldn’t want to interrupt—but you didn’t happen to take maybe a spoon—”
    â€œI did not take a spoon!” Harry angrily said. “Or anything else. Since my mind, right then, wasn’t on your collection!”

    â€œToo bad. But okay.”
    â€œI assured her that I was not a thief, and so naturally she demanded what I was doing