Little Ruth Lorimer has nice toys and a nice house, but she is dreadfully lonely. Then one day a scruffy little cat brings some warmth into her life.
HIGH up in a rambling town house in Gower Street was a nursery, and for most of the day Ruth Lorimer played disconsolately in it.
She had plenty of nice toys, but however much she talked to her dolls they never replied. At the other end of the house her widowed father kept himself to himself, either out to dinner, or with his head in book.
One day, as Ruth came back from another dull walk with Nurse Smith, she met a little grey cat on the stairs. Her delight was short-lived, though, for Nurse immediately shooed the poor thing away. “It’s that nasty kitchen cat!” was all she said.
Well, it wasn’t the prettiest cat, and scavenging for food in the cellar leaves its mark. Even so, Ruth managed a surreptitious friendship with the bony little creature, until one day she came down with a bout of fever.