y called one day for a charitable
subscription, and begged me to contribute a few spare partridge bones to
a fund for the support of starving cats in the neighbourhood, who had
been deserted by families leaving town, I said that really such cases
were not much in my line. There is a great deal of imposition
about--perhaps the cats had stolen the cream, and hadn't left off
stealing it when they were chased by the family. I doubted if families
where the cats deserved respect and consideration ever did leave town.
One has so many calls, if one once begins to subscribe to things; and I
am particularly fond of partridge.

But when, a few months later, the very words which the lean tabby had
spoken passed between the butler and the cook in reference to our own
household, and I learnt that "the family" were going "to leave town," I
felt a pang of conscience, and wished I had subscribed the merry
thought, or even the breast-bone--there was very little on it--to the
Deserted Cats' Fund.

But it was my young mistress who told me (with regrets and caresses,
which in the circumstances were mere mockery) that I was to be left
behind.

I have a particularly placid temper, and can adapt myself pretty
comfortably to the ups and downs of life; but this news made my tail
stand on end.

"Poor dear Toots!" said my mistress, kissing my nose, and tickling me
gently under the ear, as if she were saying the prettiest things
possible. "I am _so_ sorry! I don't know _what_ we are to do with you!
But we are going abroad, and we _can't_ take you, you dear old thing!
We've such heaps of luggage, and such lots of servants, and no end of
things that _must_ go! But I _can't bear to think_ of you left behind!"

"No," said I indignantly; "that's just it, and the people at number ten,
and number fourteen, and number twenty-five, couldn't bear to think what
would become of their cats, so they went away and didn't think about it.
They couldn't bear to see them die, so they didn't give them a dose of
quick poison, but left them to die of starvation, when they weren't
there to see. You're a heartless, selfish race, you human beings, and I
suspect that Mrs. Tabby is not the only shabby-looking, true-hearted
soul, who has to pester people for subscriptions to patch up the dreary
end of existence for deserted pets, when caressing days are over. Fuff!"

And I jumped straight out of her arms, and whisked through the
dining-room window. For some time I stro