don't
care any more about tearing the cushions ... When will I get out of
this? Not that I'm afraid; they are both there, and the dog too, with
their everyday faces ... I've twinges in my stomach.

(_He yawns. The train stops. A conductor on the platform cries, "Aw-ll
a-bor! Aw-ll a-b-o-r-r!!"_)

TOBY-DOG, (_excited_)

Screaming again! Another accident?!--Let's run!...

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

Heavens, what a tiresome dog! What does it matter to him, if there _is_
an accident?

I don't believe in it moreover. It's the cry of a man, and men cry out
for the pleasure of hearing their own voices.

TOBY-DOG, (_calm again_)

I'm hungry. Can't we hope to eat soon, my mistress? I don't know what
time it is in this strange country, but it seems to me....

SHE

Come now, we'll all have our luncheon.

(_She takes the things out of the basket, crumples up some tissue paper
and breaks a crisp brown roll_.)

TOBY-DOG, (_chewing_)

What She gave me then must have been very good indeed to seem such a
tiny bit. It melted in my mouth, there's not even the memory of it
left....

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_chewing_)

Breast of chicken! Purr-rr ... Goodness me! I was purring without
knowing it! That won't do. They'll think me resigned to this journey. I
must eat slowly, grim, and undeceived, eat for the sole purpose of
keeping myself alive ...

SHE, (_to the dog and cat_)

Allow me to have _my_ luncheon now, if you please. _I_ too, like cold
chicken and the hearts of lettuce, dipped in salt....

HE, (_anxiously_)

What _shall_ we do to make this cat go into his basket again?

SHE

I don't know. We'll see presently ...

TOBY-DOG

Finished already? I could swallow three times that much. I say Cat,
you're eating rather well for a martyr.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_fibbing_)

Trouble digs a hole in one's interior. Move away please, I want to sleep
now ... if I can. Perhaps a merciful dream will take me back to the
house I've left, to the flowered cushion He gave me.... Home! sweet
home! Rugs of bright colors for the delight of my eyes, a palm with
nice shoots for me to eat, deep arm-chairs, under which I hide my woolen
ball as a future surprise for myself--ah, and the cork hanging by a
string to the door-latch! the tables covered with bibelots! I thread my
way in and out among them and occasionally it amuses me to break some
brittle thing. The dining-room is a temple! The vestibule, full of
mystery; there unseen, I can watch tho