Betsy Whitefoot 79 
the living. And as for the emblem you speak of, 
to my mind flowers symbolize the transition of life 
far more fitly than do the time-worn weeds of 
mourning.” 
The lady made no answer to this at all, and 
mistress went into the house, leaving her alone 
with her fancy work. 
Before we were allowed to go on the porch 
again, it was thoroughly scrubbed with boiling 
water ; the tub was scalded, and the old mat was 
burned. 
On the following day a neighboring cat, whom I 
have since learned to know as Jack, came into our 
yard, and I noticed that he persistently sniffed 
around the little fresh mound. 
“ What is in there?” said he, after he had visited 
it for the third time. 
I told him about the sad occurrence of the day 
before. 
“ Was it a gray cat with white toes ? ” 
I told him it was. 
“ Poor Betsy Whitefoot,” said Jack, in tones of 
real anguish. “ I have shared my meals with her 
ever since the Mortons went to their summer house 
in the country. A better mouser never lived than 
