"
"Naw, I haven't stabbed him. It was another cat that stabbed him. You see,
Pa wants me to do all the work around the house. The other day he bought a
load of kindling wood, and told me to carry it into the basement. I had
not been educated up to kindling wood, and I didn't do it. When supper
time came, and Pa found that I had not carried in the kindling wood, he
had a hot box, and told me if that wood was not in when he came
back from the lodge, that he would warm my jacket. Well, I tried to hire
some one to carry it in, and got a man to promise to come in the morning
and carry it in and take his pay in groceries, and I was going to buy the
groceries here and have them charged to Pa. But that wouldn't help me out
that night. I knew when Pa came home he would search for me. So I slept in
the back hall on a cot. But I didn't want Pa to have all his trouble for
nothing, so I borrowed an old torn cat that my chum's old maid aunt owns,
and put the cat in my bed. I thought if Pa came into my room after me, and
found that by his unkindness I had changed to a torn cat, he would be
sorry. That is the biggest cat you ever see, and the worst fighter in our
ward. It isn't afraid of anything, and can whip a New Foundland dog
quicker than you could put sand in a barrel of sugar. Well, about eleven
o'clock I heard Pa tumbing over the kindling wood, and I knew by the
remark he made as the wood slid around under him, that there was going to
be a cat fight real quick.
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