or billiard-room. He might even have it in the diningroom,
or on the terrace, just outside. Guests--there were usually
guests--might suit their convenience in this matter--also as to the
forenoons. The afternoon brought games--that is, billiards, provided
the guest knew billiards, otherwise hearts. Those two games were his
safety-valves, and while there were no printed requirements relating to
them the unwritten code of Stormfield provided that guests, of whatever
age or previous faith, should engage in one or both of these diversions.

Clemens, who usually spent his forenoon in bed with his reading and
his letters, came to the green table of skill and chance eager for
the onset; if the fates were kindly, he approved of them openly. If
not--well, the fates were old enough to know better, and, as heretofore,
had to take the consequences. Sometimes, when the weather was fine and
there were no games (this was likely to be on Sunday afternoons), there
were drives among the hills and along the Saugatuck through the Bedding
Glen.

The cat was always "purring on the hearth" at Stormfield--several
cats--for Mark Twain's fondness for this clean, intelligent domestic
animal remained, to the end, one of his happiest characteristics. There
were never too many cats at Stormfield, and the "hearth" included the
entire house, even the billiard-table. When, as was likely to happen at
any time during the game, the kittens Sinbad, or Danbury, or Billiards
would decide to hop up and play with the balls, or sit in the pockets
and grab at them as they went by, the game simply added this element
of chance, and the uninvited player was not disturbed. The cats really
owned Stormfield; any one could tell that from their deportment. Mark
Twain held the title deeds; but it was Danbury and Sinbad and the others
that possessed the premises. They occupied any portion of the house or
its furnishings at will, and they never failed to attract attention.
Mark Twain might be preoccupied and indifferent to the comings and
goings of other members of the household; but no matter what he was
doing, let Danbury appear in the offing and he was observed and greeted
with due deference, and complimented and made comfortable. Clemens would
arise from the table and carry certain choice food out on the terrace
to Tammany, and be satisfied with almost no acknowledgment by way of
appreciation. One could not imagine any home of Mark Twain where the
cats were not suprem