Puss begins a Story. 35

ONE OF A CAT’S LIVES.

“IT Know very well that I was born in a palace—that is, a
palace in comparison with this cottage,” said the Angora cat,
stretching herself comfortably on the warm hearthstone.

“What was it like ?” asked Job, glancing around the kitchen.

“Well, it must have been a palace, because there was a
lawn and a park, with winding avenues and flowers. Then
the house was beautiful, large, and spacious, with soft carpets
and velvet cushions. The old lady who lived there owned
twenty cats, and people said she was crazy on the subject of
pets. The cats had an easy life. Each morning a servant
bathed the Angora family, combed our fur, and tied a fresh
ribbon about our necks. How much we were caressed! One
day I was taken to the drawing-room for some visitors to ad-
mire my flossy coat, when I saw an ugly face peering in at
the window, and I hid beneath the dress of my mistress. The
butler told the beggar to go away. ‘I’m hungry,’ said the
man. Now I had never been hungry in my life. After the
visitors left I curled myself up for a nap on the best em-
broidered cushion. Two dirty hands seized me, the ugly face
peered in the window again, and I was hurried away, hidden
from sight beneath the beggar’s ragged coat. In vain I
struggled; he held me firmly until we had crossed the road
behind a hedge, and he took me out to shake mé angrily.