The White Cat

In this charming bedtime story from E Nesbit (author of the children's classic The Railway Children), a white china cat comes to the rescue of a young boy when his mother falls on hard times and stands in danger of losing the family home (also white).

With guitar music from William King.

Transcript

Hello there,

It's Mandy here.

Welcome to tonight's reading,

Which is The White Cat by E.

Nesbitt.

And as you may know,

E.

Nesbitt was the author of the very popular children's book,

The White Cat.

Which is The White Cat by E.

Nesbitt.

And as you may know,

E.

Nesbitt was the author of the very popular children's classic,

The Railway Children.

But she also wrote a lot of short stories that are not quite so well known.

But before I start reading,

Please go right ahead and make yourself really comfortable,

Whether you're sitting or lying.

That's great.

Then I'll begin.

The White Cat.

The White Cat lived at the back of a shelf at the darkest end of the inside attic,

Which was nearly dark all over.

It had lived there for years because one of its white china ears was chipped,

So it was no longer a possible ornament for the spare bedroom.

Tavy found it at the climax of a wicked and glorious afternoon.

He had been left alone.

The servants were the only other people in the house.

He had promised to be good.

He had meant to be good.

And he had not been.

He had done everything you can think of.

He had walked into the duck pond and not a stitch of his clothes,

But it had to be changed.

He had climbed on a hay rack and fallen off it and had not broken his neck,

Which,

As Cook told him,

He richly deserved to do.

He had found a mouse in the trap and put it in the kitchen teapot so that when Cook went to make tea,

It jumped out at her and affected her to screams,

Followed by tears.

Tavy was sorry for this,

Of course,

And said so like a man.

He had only,

He explained,

Meant to give her a little start.

In the confusion that followed the mouse,

He had eaten all the blackcurrant jam that was put out for kitchen tea.

And for this,

Too,

He apologised handsomely as soon as it was pointed out to him.

He had broken a pane of the greenhouse with the stone and.

But why pursue this painful theme?

The last thing he had done was to explore the attic where he was never allowed to go and to knock down the white cat from its shelf.

The sound of its fall brought the servants.

The cat was not broken,

Only its other ear was chipped.

Tavy was put to bed.

But he got out as soon as the servants had gone downstairs,

Crept up to the attic,

Secured the cat and washed it in the bath.

So that when mother came back from London,

Tavy,

Dancing impatiently at the head of the stairs in a very wet nightgown,

Flung himself upon her and cried.

I've been awfully naughty and I'm frightfully sorry.

And please may I have the white cat for my very own?

He was much sorrier than he had expected to be when he saw that mother was too tired even to want to know,

As she generally did,

Exactly how naughty he had been.

She only kissed him and said,

I am sorry you've been naughty,

My darling.

Go back to bed now.

Good night.

Tavy was ashamed to say anything more about the China cat,

Though he went back to bed.

But he took the cat with him and talked to it and kissed it and went to sleep with its smooth,

Shiny shoulder against his cheek.

In the days that followed,

He was extravagantly good.

Being good seemed as easy as being bad usually was.

This may have been because mother seemed so tired and ill and gentlemen in black coats and high hats came to see mother.

And after they had gone,

She used to cry.

These things going on in the house sometimes make people good.

Sometimes they act just the other way.

Or it may have been because he had the China cat to talk to.

Anyhow,

Whichever way it was,

At the end of the week,

Mother said,

Tavy,

You've been a dear good boy and a great comfort to me.

You must have tried very hard to be good.

It was difficult to say,

No,

I haven't,

At least not since the first day.

But Tavy got it said and was hugged for his pains.

You wanted,

Said mother,

The China cat.

Well,

You may have it.

For my very own.

For your very own.

But you must be very careful not to break it.

And you mustn't give it away.

It goes with the house.

Your Aunt Jane made me promise to keep it in the family.

It's very,

Very old.

Don't take it out of doors for fear of accidents.

Don't take it out of doors for fear of accidents.

I love the white cat,

Mother,

Said Tavy.

I love it better than all my toys.

Then mother told Tavy several things.

And that night when he went to bed,

He repeated them all faithfully to the China cat,

Who was about six inches high and looked very intelligent.

So you see,

He ended,

The wicked lawyers taken nearly all mother's money.

And we've got to leave our own lovely big white house.

And mother does hate it so.

I don't wonder,

Said the China cat,

Very distinctly.

What,

Said Tavy,

Halfway into his nightshirt.

I said,

I don't wonder,

Octavius,

Said the China cat,

And rose from her sitting position,

Stretched her China legs,

And waved her white China tail.

You can speak,

Said Tavy.

Can't you see I can?

Here,

I mean,

Said the cat.

I belong to you now,

So I can speak to you.

I couldn't before.

It wouldn't have been manners.

Tavy,

His nightshirt around his neck,

Sat down on the edge of the bed with his mouth open.

Come,

Don't look so silly,

Said the cat,

Taking a walk along the high wooden mantelpiece.

Anyone would think you didn't like me to talk to you.

I love you too,

Said Tavy,

Recovering himself a little.

Well then,

Said the cat.

May I touch you,

Tavy asked,

Timidly.

Of course,

I belong to you.

Look out.

The China cat gathered herself together and jumped.

Tavy caught her.

It was quite a shock to find that when one stroked her,

The China cat,

Though alive,

Was still China,

Hard,

Cold,

And smooth to the touch,

And yet perfectly brisk and absolutely bendable as any flesh and blood cat.

Dear,

Dear white cat,

Said Tavy,

I do love you.

And I love you,

Purred the cat.

Otherwise,

I should never have lowered myself to begin a conversation.

I wish you were a real cat,

Said Tavy.

I am,

Said the cat.

Now,

How shall we amuse ourselves?

I suppose you don't care for sport,

Mousing,

I mean.

I never tried,

Said Tavy,

And I think I rather wouldn't.

Very well,

Octavius,

Said the cat.

I'll take you to the white cat's castle.

Get into bed.

Bed makes a good travelling carriage,

Especially when you haven't any other.

Shut your eyes,

Tavy did as he was told.

Shut his eyes,

But could not keep them shut.

He opened them a tiny,

Tiny chink and sprang up.

He was not in bed.

He was on a couch of soft beast skin,

And the couch stood in a splendid hall whose walls were of gold and ivory.

By him stood the white cat,

No longer China,

But real live cat and fur,

As cats should be.

Here we are,

She said.

The journey didn't take long,

Did it?

Now we'll have that splendid supper out of the fairy tale with the invisible hands waiting on us.

She clapped her paws,

Paws now as soft as white velvet,

And a tablecloth floated into the room,

Then knives and forks and spoons and glasses.

The table was laid,

The dishes drifted in,

The table was laid,

The dishes drifted in,

And they began to eat.

There happened to be every single thing Tavy liked best to eat.

After supper there was music and singing,

And Tavy,

Having kissed a white,

Soft,

Furry forehead,

Went to bed in a gold four poster with a counterpane of butterfly's wings.

He awoke at home.

On the mantelpiece sat the white cat,

Looking as though butter would not melt in her mouth,

And all her fairiness had gone with her voice.

She was silent and China.

Tavy spoke to her,

But she wouldn't answer,

Nor did she speak all day.

Only at night,

When he was getting into bed,

She suddenly mewed,

Stretched,

And said,

Make haste,

There's a play acted tonight at my castle.

Tavy made haste and was rewarded by another glorious evening in the castle of the white cat.

And so the weeks went on,

Days full of an ordinary little boy's sorrows and joys,

Goodnesses and badnesses,

Nights spent by a little prince in the magic castle of the white cat.

Then came the day when Tavy's mother spoke to him and he,

Very scared and serious,

Told the China cat what she had said.

I knew this would happen,

Said the cat,

It always does.

So you're to leave your house next week.

Well,

There's only one way out of the difficulty.

Draw your sword,

Tavy,

And cut off my head and tail.

And then will you turn into a princess and shall I have to marry you?

Tavy asked with horror.

No,

Dear,

No,

Said the cat reassuringly.

I shan't turn into anything.

But you and mother will turn into happy people.

I shall just not be anymore for you.

Then I won't do it,

Said Tavy.

But you must.

Come,

Draw your sword like a brave fairy prince and cut off my head.

The sword hung above his bed with the helmet and breastplate Uncle James had given him last Christmas.

I'm not a fairy prince,

Said the child.

I'm Tavy and I love you.

You love your mother better,

Said the cat.

Come,

Cut my head off.

The story always ends like that.

You love mother best.

It's for her sake.

Yes,

Tavy was trying to think it out.

Yes,

I do love mother best.

But I love you still and I won't cut off your head.

No,

Not even for mother.

Then,

Said the cat,

I must do what I can.

She stood up waving her white china tail and before Tavy could stop her she had leapt,

Not as before into his arms but onto the wide hearthstone and it was all over.

The china cat lay broken inside the high brass fender.

The sound of the smash brought mother running.

What is it,

She cried.

Oh,

Tavy,

The china cat.

She would do it,

Sobbed Tavy.

She wanted me to cut off her head and I wouldn't.

Don't talk nonsense,

Dear,

Said mother sadly.

That only makes it worse.

Cut the pieces.

There's only two pieces,

Said Tavy.

Couldn't you stick her together again?

Why,

Said mother,

Holding the pieces close to the candle.

She's been broken before and mended.

I knew that,

Said Tavy,

Still sobbing.

Oh,

My dear white cat.

Oh,

Oh.

The second oh was a howl of anguish.

Come,

Crying won't mend her,

Said mother.

Look,

There's another piece of her close to the shovel.

Tavy stooped.

That's not a piece of cat,

He said,

And picked it up.

It was a pale parchment label tied to a key.

Mother held it to the candle and read Key of the lock behind the knot in the mantelpiece panel in the white parlour.

Tavy,

I wonder.

But where did it come from?

Out of my white cat,

I suppose,

Said Tavy,

His tears stopping.

Are you going to see what's in the mantelpiece panel,

Mother?

Are you?

Oh,

Do let me come and see too.

You don't deserve,

Mother began,

But ended,

Well,

Put your dressing gown on then.

They went down the gallery past the pictures and the stuffed birds and tables with china on them and downstairs on to the white parlour.

But they couldn't see any knot in the mantelpiece panel because it was all painted white.

So mother's fingers felt softly all over it and found a round raised spot.

It was a knot,

Sure enough.

She scraped round it with her scissors till she loosened the knot and poked it out with the scissors point.

I don't suppose there's any keyhole there really,

She said.

But there was.

And what's more,

The key fitted.

The panel swung open and inside was a little cupboard with two shelves.

What was on the shelves?

There were old laces and old embroideries,

Old jewellery and old silver.

There was money and there were dusty old papers that Tavy thought most uninteresting.

But mother didn't think them uninteresting.

She laughed,

Then cried,

Or nearly cried and said,

Oh Tavy,

This was why the china cat was to be taken such care of.

Then she told him how,

A hundred and fifty years before,

The head of the house had gone out to fight for the pretender and had told his daughter to take the greatest care of the china cat.

I will send you word of the reason by a sure hand,

He said,

For they parted on the open square where any spy might have overheard anything.

And he had been killed not ten miles from home and his daughter had never known.

But she had kept the cat.

And now it has saved us,

Said mother.

We can stay in the dear old house and there are two other houses that will belong to us too,

I think.

And,

Oh Tavy,

Would you like some pound cake and ginger wine,

Dear?

Tavy did like and had it.

The china cat was mended,

But it was put in the glass-fronted corner cupboard in the drawing room because it had saved the house.

Now I dare say you'll think this is all nonsense and a made-up story.

Not at all.

If it were,

How would you account for Tavy's finding,

The very next night,

Fast asleep on his pillow,

His own white cat,

The furry friend that the china cat used to turn into every evening,

The dear hostess who had amused him so well in the white cat's furry palace?

It was she,

Beyond a doubt,

And that was why Tavy didn't mind a bit about the china cat being taken from him and kept under glass.

You may think it was just any old stray white cat that had come in by accident.

Tavy knows better.

It has the very same tender tone in its purr that the magic white cat had.

It will not talk to Tavy,

It is true,

But Tavy can and does talk to it.

But the thing that makes it perfectly certain that it is the white cat is that the tips of its two ears are missing,

Just as the china cat's ears were.

If you say it might have lost its ear tips in battle,

You are the kind of person who always makes difficulties,

And you may be quite sure that the kind of splendid magics that happen to Tavy will never happen to you.

.

Reviews

Delightful story, in classic Nesbit style. Thank you so much, Mandy!❤️🙏🏼

Love this enchanted story. Listened to it 3 in the morning. It was to nice to fall asleep with .😻