The little boy looked very full of chicken and joyfulness. So did Tiger Lily.
"Cook says I've got to romp him!" he said. "Every day!—Twice every day!—More'n a hundred times some days! Out doors too! Not just in parks,—parks are good enough for cats,—but in real fields! Else he'll DIE!" Almost as though he was frightened he stooped down suddenly and laid his little ear on Tiger Lily's soft breast. "He's alive now!" he boasted. "You can hear his heart nibbling!" He threw back his little head and laughed and laughed and clapped his hands. He took Tiger Lily by the collar and led him over to the table by the window. He climbed up on the table and pulled Tiger Lily after him.
Tiger Lily was frightened, but not too much. He felt proud. His ears looked fluffy. His back was shining silk. His tail hung down across the edge of the table like a plume.
Far off in the city streets somewhere there was a noise that trolly cars make when they're climbing up a hill and the switch is too hard for them. It was a sour sound.
Tiger Lily started to make a little quiver in his back. The little boy threw his arm around him. A mouse nibbled in the wall. Tiger Lily cocked his head to listen but kissed the little boy's cheek instead. It was a nice kiss. But wet. The little boy laughed right out loud. Way down on the very tip end of Tiger Lily's plumey tail about two hairs wagged. When the little boy saw it his face went all shining. He threw both arms around Tiger Lily's neck. "T—Tiger Lily's—little boy!" he said. "T—T—" Something funny happened to his mouth. It was a teeny-weeny yawn that didn't seem to know just what to do about it. Nothing in all the world felt lonely any more.
Except me.
The Lady put me to bed.
Carol put himself to bed all except the knots in his shoestrings.
We went to sleep.
Pretty soon it was morning. And we went home.