Isaac Letchford reads part two of a children's story about winged kittens named Thelma, Roger, James, and Harriet. They leave the city, learn to fly, explore rooftops and countryside, and discover something in a creek.
My work is here. Mr Tom Jones proposed to me last night, and I intend to accept him. I don't want you children underfoot.
All the children wept, but they knew that this was the way it must be in cat families. They were proud, too, that their mother trusted them to look after themselves. So all together they had a good deal of crying. From the garbage can that the dog had knocked over. Then Thelma, Roger, James, and Harriet purred goodbye to their dear mother. And one after another, they spread their wings and flew up over the alley, over the rooftops, away. Miss Jane Tabby watched them. Her heart was full of fear and pride. They are remarkable children, Jane, said Mr. Tom Jones in a soft, deep voice.
Ours will be remarkable too, Tom, said Mrs. Tabby.
Chapter 2. As Thelma, Roger, James, and Harriet flew on, all they could see beneath them, mile after mile, was the city's roofs, the city's streets. A pigeon came swooping up to join them. It flew along with them, peering at them uneasily from its little round red eye. What kind of bird are you, anyway? it finally asked. Passenger pigeons, James said promptly. Harriet mooed with laughter. The pigeon jumped in mid-air, stared at her, and then turned and swooped away, them in a great, quick curve. I wish I could fly like that, said Roger. Pigeons are really dumb, James muttered. But my wings ache already, Roger said, and Thelma said, so do mine.
Let's land somewhere and rest.
Little Harriet was already heading down towards a church steeple. They clung to the cavings on the church roof. And then got a drink of water from the roof gutters.
Sitting in Caberziep!
Said Harriet, perched on a pinnacle.
It looks different over there!
Said Thelma, pointing her nose to the west.
It looks softer!
They all gazed earnestly westward, but cats don't see the distance clearly. Well, if it's different, let's try it! Said James, and they set off again. They could not fly with untiring ease like the pigeons. Miss Tabby had always seen to it they ate well, and so they were quite plump and had to beat their wings hard to keep their weight aloft. They learned how to glide, not beating their wings, letting the wind bear them up. But Harriet found gliding difficult and wobbled badly. After another hour or so, they landed on the roof. of a huge factory. Even though the air there smelt terrible, they slept for a while in a weary, filthy furry heap. Then, towards nightfall, very hungry— for nothing gives an appetite like flying— they woke up and flew on. The sun set. The city lights came on, long strings and chains of lights below them, stretching out towards the darkness. Towards darkness they flew, and at last, when around them and under them everything was dark except for one light twinkling over the hill, they descended slowly from the air and landed on the ground. A soft ground. A strange ground. The only ground they knew was pavement, asphalt, and cement. This was all new to them. Dirt, earth, dead leaves, grass, twigs, mushrooms, worms— it all smelt extremely interesting. A little creek ran nearby. They heard the song of it and went to drink, for they were very thirsty. After drinking, Roger stayed crouching on the bank, his nose almost in the water, his eyes gazing. What's that in the water?
he whispered.
The others came and gazed. They could just make out something moving in the water. In the starlight, a silvery flicker, a gleam. Roger's paw shot out. I think it's dinner!
