Page:The art of story-telling, with nearly half a hundred stories, y Julia Darrow Cowles .. (IA artofstorytellin00cowl).pdf/139

 cat who often loved to chase up and down the path that ran between the hedges.

"Come, pussy, pussy dear!" called Bobby, "come and play with me."

Then, because the white cat did not seem to hear, Bobby stooped over and picked her up in his arms. But the white cat wriggled and scratched and spit at Bobby and jumped out of his arms. She ran away from him and hid beneath a chair.

"I wonder why she will not play with me," Bobby said as he went out into the garden. There, on the doorstep, stood Bobby's white dove with the pink, pink toes. Bobby loved the white dove, who was very tame and often flew to his shoulder, cooing gently in his ear. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a handful of grain which he scattered on the doorstep for the dove—pretty yellow grain it was. But the white dove would not eat it, and when Bobby called her, she flew away from him, as far as the green gables at the very top of the house.

"I wonder why she will not play with me," said Bobby, as he ran down the garden path to the little round pond where his six yellow gold fish lived. The six yellow gold