" Missy
knew this meant, of course, that inwardly she loathed cats; that she
regarded them merely as something which musses up counterpanes and
keeps outlandish hours. Aunt Nettie was perpetually finding fault
with Poppy; but Missy had noted that Aunt Nettie and all the others
who emphasized Poppy's imperfections were people whom Poppy, in her
turn, for some reason could not endure. This point she tried to make
once when Poppy had been convicted of a felonious scratch, but of
course the grown-ups couldn't follow her reasoning. Long since she'd
given up trying to make clear the real merits of her pet; she only
knew that Poppy was more loving and lovable, more sympathetic and
comprehending, than the majority of humans. She could count on
Poppy's never jarring on any mood, whether grave or gay. Poppy
adored listening to poetry read aloud, sitting immovable save for
slowly blinking eyes for an hour at a stretch. She even had an
appreciation for music, often remaining in the parlour throughout
her mistress's practice period, and sometimes purring an
accompaniment to tunes she especially liked--such tunes as "The
Maiden's Prayer" or "Old Black Joe with Variations.
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