Page 119 - Blue Feather Book 1

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“But she will hear the loom stop,” the little girl said.
“I’ll see to that,” said the thin black cat. And the cat took the little girl’s place at the loom. Clickity clack, clickity clack; the loom never stopped for a moment.
The little girl looked quickly to make sure Baba Yaga couldn’t see her, then jumped down from the little hut on the hen’s legs, and ran to the gates as fast as she could go.
The big dog leapt up to tear her to pieces, but he said, “Why, this is the little girl who gave me the loaf.” And he lay down again with his head between his paws.
When she came to the gates, they opened quietly, quietly, without making any noise at all, because of the oil she had poured into their hinges. And then, the girl ran.
Meanwhile, back at Baba Yaga’s hut, the thin black cat sat at the loom. Clickity clack, clickity clack, sang the loom; but you never saw such a tangle as the tangle made by the thin black cat. And presently Baba Yaga came to the window. “Are you weaving my little niece? Are you weaving my pretty?”
“I am weaving, auntie,” said the thin black cat, tangling and tangling, while the loom went clickity clack, clickity clack.
“That’s not the voice of my dinner,” said Baba Yaga, and she jumped into the hut, gnashing her iron teeth; and there was no little girl, but only the thin black cat, sitting at the loom.
“You wretch!” Baba Yaga snarled, and jumped for the cat, shaking it back and forth. “Why didn’t you tear the little girl’s eyes out?”
The cat said, “In all the years I have served you, you have only given me one little bone; but the kind little girl gave me scraps of meat.”
Baba Yaga threw the cat into a corner, and rushed around the yard, shrieking and scolding at the top of her voice.
“Why didn’t you tear her to pieces?” she asked the dog.
The Blue Feather Literature First Course