The Tale of Castle Cottage Read Online Free Page A

books. Or maybe she’s just distracted. She has far too much to do.”
    If you find it strange that a cat should be aware of the bookkeeping habits of the proprietress of the village bakery, you should know that Crumpet makes it her business to be aware of everything that happens in Sawrey. She was probably perched on the windowsill or underfoot at Miss Barwick’s table when the subject of account books came up. Village cats, as you know, are everywhere. And Crumpet happens to be the new president of the Village Cat Council, a position that she has coveted for quite some time. Her predecessor, the much-beloved Tabitha Twitchit, resigned in order to move to the Vicarage with Grace Lythecoe, who has recently become Mrs. Sackett. Tabitha still serves on the Council’s Executive Committee, however, and doesn’t mind telling Crumpet what she ought to be doing, which is of course no end of annoyance for Crumpet, who wishes that Tabitha would stay at the Vicarage and tend to her mousing.
    “Farmer Jennings says that Miss Barwick must be making money hand over fist in that bakery of hers,” meowed Felicia Frummety. The other village cats went by such names as Puss or Porridge or Max, so Felicia’s name, which had been given to her by Miss Potter, made her think herself a bit better than the rest of them. (This is ironic, of course, because frummety is nothing more elegant than wheat boiled in cow’s milk with a little sugar and cinnamon, so Felicia has nothing to feel superior about.)
    “I don’t see why Miss Barwick’s business affairs should be of any concern to Mr. Jennings,” Crumpet growled. “Or to you, Felicia. You should be paying attention to the job you’re hired to do. Didn’t I hear Miss Potter complaining that a rat stole ten fine eggs right out from under the turkey hen the other night? She said he tunneled under the coop and took the eggs down the hole.”
    “It was the hen’s fault entirely,” Felicia retorted in a lofty tone. “She slept the whole time, and when she woke up, her eggs were gone. I had nothing at all to do with it. I wasn’t even there.”
    “Precisely my point,” Crumpet spat. “You had nothing at all to do with it, when you should have been there with your fangs bared, just waiting for that rat to make his move. Rats are beastly—and where there is one rat, there’s a gang. They must be kept at bay, whatever the cost.”
    Felicia shuddered. She was in charge of rat patrol in the Hill Top barn and dairy, but she found rodents appallingly distasteful and would do almost anything to avoid coming in actual physical contact with one of the horrid creatures. In fact, she was so derelict in her duty that Miss Potter and Mrs. Jennings had once had to bring in a team of more efficient cats to handle the rats, which led to a problem of quite another sort. You might remember this story; it is told in The Tale of Cuckoo Brow Wood , where the unlikely hero, stout, mild-tempered Ridley Rattail, arrested and deported (trussed, in a beer barrel) the arrogant Cat Who Walked by Himself .
    But Felicia was not inclined to listen to a lecture from Crumpet, whose authority, she thought, ended at the edge of the Hill Top property.
    “Oh, hush,” she said crossly. “I want to hear what this is about.” She leant forward to hear the conversation.
    “I didn’t expect you to write to me, Sarah,” Beatrix was saying as she spread a little more mustard on her pork pie. “I know how busy you are at the bakery.” Around a mouthful of pie, she added appreciatively, “Really, my dear, this pie is delicious. I’m sure you must be selling hundreds.”
    “You see?” hissed Felicia. “What did I tell you? Making money hand over fist.”
    “Which is none of your business,” retorted Crumpet. “You should be attending to those beastly rats .”
    Beatrix raised her voice. “Crumpet and Felicia, you are interrupting our conversation. Do be quiet.”
    “I’m happy to say that I’m selling quite a