. 'Poor Tom
is lying under the yard, or the skin of him, but whether that is the
whole I don't feel so sure. They didn't think so in the city I told you
about. It is a beautiful day, Dog; you won't take a trot out with me?'
she added, wistfully.

'Who? I' said the Dog. 'Not quite.'

'You may get so wise,' said she.

'Wisdom is good,' said the Dog; 'but so is the hearth-rug, thank you!'

'But you may be free,' said she.

'I shall have to hunt for my own dinner,' said he.

'But, Dog, they may pray to you again,' said she.

'But I sha'n't have a softer mat to sleep upon, Cat, and as I am rather
delicate, that is a consideration.'

PART II.

So the Dog wouldn't go, and the Cat set off by herself to learn how to
be happy, and to be all that a Cat could be. It was a fine sunny
morning. She determined to try the meadow first, and, after an hour or
two, if she had not succeeded, then to go off to the wood. A Blackbird
was piping away on a thornbush as if his heart was running over with
happiness. The Cat had breakfasted, and so was able to listen without
any mixture of feeling. She didn't sneak. She walked boldly up under the
bush, and the bird, seeing she had no bad purpose, sate still and sung
on.

'Good morning, Blackbird; you seem to be enjoying yourself this fine
day.'

'Good morning, Cat.'

'Blackbird, it is an odd question, perhaps. What ought one to do to be
as happy as you?'

'Do your duty, Cat.'

'But what is my duty, Blackbird?'

'Take care of your little ones, Cat.'

'I hav'n't any,' said she.

'Then sing to your mate,' said the bird.

'Tom is dead,' said she.

'Poor Cat!' said the bird. 'Then sing over his grave. If your song is
sad, you will find your heart grow lighter for it.'

'Mercy!' thought the Cat. 'I could do a little singing with a living
lover, but I never heard of singing for a dead one. But you see, bird,
it isn't Cats' nature. When I am cross, I mew. When I am pleased, I
purr; but I must be pleased first. I can't purr myself into happiness.'

'I am afraid there is something the matter with your heart, my Cat. It
wants warming; good-bye.'

The Blackbird flew away. The Cat looked sadly after him. 'He thinks I am
like him; and he doesn't know that a Cat is a Cat,' said she. 'As it
happens now, I feel a great deal for a Cat. If I hadn't got a heart I
shouldn't be unhappy. I won't be angry. I'll try that great fat fellow.'

The Ox lay placidly chewing, with content beaming