I picked myself up, and looked about me. The family had come in. I read in their faces that their servant's unlucky interruption of my meal had destroyed what was dearer to them than life—than my life, at any rate. I fled. I went out homeless and hopeless into the golden afternoon.
I live now with a Saint—a maiden lady, who takes condensed milk in her own tea, and buys me two-pennyworth of cream night and morning.
And cat's meat, too!
And the glorious fishmonger still leaves his offerings at my door.
Nine Lives
"MOTHER," said the yellow kitten, "is it true that we cats have nine lives?"