Mettle, the blacksmith’s yellow terrier was doing a job on his own; opening the links in a dog chain. Another dog was blowing the bellows. They greeted Sandy, “Come along and warm yourself at the hearth, Sandy!”  “I’m in a hurry, I cannot wait. And you must come with me, Mettle. Poor old Billy is fast in the Pound.”  “Whew-w!” whistled Mettle. He damped down the fire, gathered up some tools, and they hurried off together.

Pony Billy was dozing in the Pinfold. He was awakened by the sound of sniffing and scratching under the door; something was being done to the padlock. Within a few minutes he was free; trotting back towards the village with the dogs racing at his heels. When the constable came next morning, the mysterious pony had vanished. The Pinfold was empty.

“So you see, Tuppenny,” said Xarifa, “it is most important to carry fern seed when we go upon the roads, and pass near the Big Folks; and you must always take great care that it is not lost.”

CHAPTER V

The Misses Pussycats’ Shop

While the caravaners were encamped in the quarry, Sandy had gone shopping to the market town. It was an old-fashioned town with funny crooked streets and little old squares hidden away round corners; there were archways opening under houses, leading from square to square. Sandy made several small purchases at the grocer’s and at the saddler’s. But his most important piece of shopping was to buy something pretty to make a costume for Tuppenny, who was worthy of considerable outlay by way of dressing up. His remarkable hair, and the rarity of guinea-pigs, combined to make him an acquisition to the circus company. “Choose something bright and fanciful; I will shape it and sew it. And pray remember hairpins!” said the Dormouse Xarifa, who was clever with her needle. So Sandy in the course of his shopping paid a visit to the milliner’s.

The Misses Matilda and Louisa Pussycat kept shop in a tiny steep three-storied house, with an overhanging upper floor. Each floor came forward over the story below; it made the shop rather dark for matching ribbons.

In the attic Matilda Pussycat, leaning out of the window, could talk to Tabby Whitefoot across the way, at the staircase window of the post office opposite. The street door opened down a step into the house. On the right-hand side of the passage was a tiny parlour, containing a polished mahogany table and three chairs with horse-hair seats. On a side table were the tea tray and the best tea service, and some shells and coral under a bell glass. By the fireplace were two wicker chairs with pink cushions. Some black silhouette portraits of cat ancestors hung on the wall; and on the mantelpiece stood a pot snuffbox figure, shaped like an owl. Its head took off, and the box body contained pins and buttons; not snuff. The muslin curtains were spotlessly white.

On the other side of the passage was the milliner’s shop, and a dark little kitchen behind it. The Misses Pussycats lived principally in the kitchen. It was well supplied with the usual assortment of pots and pans, shelves, milk jugs, crooks for hanging things, a deal table, stools, and a corner cupboard. The only unusual feature in the kitchen was a small window under the plate rail. This window did not look out of doors like other windows; it looked into the shop. If a customer came in, Miss Louisa Pussycat applied her eye to the window, to see who it was. Once when she looked through, she saw a duck who had come into the shop without quacking.

Sandy came in from the street and lifted the latch of the shop door; it had a tinkling bell – “Bow, wow! Shop there! Bow wow!” barked Sandy, rapping on the counter. Miss Louisa Pussycat’s eye appeared at the little window. She put on a clean apron and came in behind the counter. “Good morning, Mr. Alexander! I hope I see you well? What can I have the pleasure of showing you?”  “First rate, Miss Louisa! And how’s yourself and Miss Matilda this cold weather?”  “I am very well, I thank you, Mr. Sandy; but I regret to say that my sister, Miss Matilda Pussycat has neuralgia. A fishbone, Mr. Sandy, a fishbone embedded between her wisdom teeth; it has caused a gumboil or abscess, accompanied by swelling. She has eaten nothing but slops for a fortnight.”  “That would disagree with me,” said Sandy. “Indeed, my poor sister Matilda is becoming as ‘thin as a cat’s lug,’ [29] as the saying is. But the spring fashions are a great divertissement and alleviation, Mr. Sandy. See here what a sweet thing in collars, Mr. Sandy; and these neckties and tabby muslins – quite the latest from Catchester. Is it for yourself or for a lady, Mr. Alexander?”  “Well, it’s for a guinea-pig, to tell you the truth, Miss Louisa.”  “A guinea-pig! is that a species of wild boar, Mr. Sandy? Does it bite?”  “No, no! A most genteel and timid little animal, Miss Louisa. He is going to play in our circus, and we want to dress him up; something bright coloured and tasty—”

“WE CAN SUPPLY EVERY REQUISITE ARTICLE OF APPAREL.”

“I feel confident that we can supply every requisite article of apparel. What is his complexion? And what character will he impersonate?” inquired Miss Louisa Pussycat; she liked long words. “He is lemon and white. We thought of calling him the Sultan of Zanzibar. How about a bandana pocket handkerchief? Can you show me any?”  “Excellent. We have a choice selection. Scarlet and gold would become him admirably. And permit me to suggest a yellow sash and a green turban; quite the height of fashion,” said Miss Louisa Pussycat, opening cardboard boxes and unwrapping packages. “I don’t think a turban would stick on, he has such a lot of hair. We were going to roll it up on the top of his head, with a hatpin stuck through it. By the bye, that reminds me, I am forgetting hairpins – hairpins with a bend in them, Miss Louisa; he has difficulty in doing up his hair.”  “Dear me, how remarkable! Cannot he have it shingled? But it would be bad for trade. You would be surprised how the sale of hairpins has diminished; we are seldom asked for them.” Miss Louisa clattered open numbers of little drawers behind the counter in search of hairpins. Finally she called through the window into the kitchen – “Sister! Sister Matilda! Where are the hairpins?”  “Miaw! miaw! oh, bother!” moaned Miss Matilda, “I put them away in the attic; they are never wanted.” She was heard climbing the staircase.

Sandy chose a scarlet, gold and chocolate coloured pocket handkerchief, and a green sash ribbon. “Allow me to recommend the purchase of this hatpin with a glass knob; it will shimmer in the sunshine like a diamond,” said Miss Louisa, who was greatly interested in the Sultan’s costume.

Miss Matilda came downstairs with a packet of hairpins. “Here! take them. Mi-i-a-ow! Oh, my poor mouth!” Her face was swelled like a cabbage, and she had a strip of red flannel pinned round her head. “Let me look at it; I have had experience of bones sticking fast,” said Sandy. “If I were sure you would not scratch me, I believe I could get it out.”  “Indeed, I should be thankful; she mews all night,” said Miss Louisa Pussycat. “I’ll scratch both of you if you touch me,” said Matilda. “Matilda, this is folly. Open your mouth.”  “Louisa, I won’t,”replied Matilda. “Oh, all right; please yourself,” said Sandy. “Will you make out my bill, Miss Louisa.”  “Let me see – half a yard of ribbon at 9 peppercorns a yard, 4½. One crystal hatpin, 7 peppercorns; one pocket handkerchief, 11 peppercorns; that makes 22½ peppercorns.”  “Miaw! You have forgotten to charge for the hairpins, Louisa.”  “Hairpins, 1½ peppercorns. That gets rid of the half. Small change is troublesome, is it not, Mr. Alexander? Twenty-four peppercorns exactly, thank you.”