“And just like our Tiny!” said Ailie again, as she repeated the kiss.
Charlie was seated on a chair, a favourite location of his, because he was out of reach of the old cat’s claws. Tom the cat never agreed with Charlie, and there was no love lost between the pair of them. The truth is Tom was jealous, and took every opportunity that presented itself to make poor Charlie’s life as miserable as it could well be. Tom used to invite Charlie to have a drop of milk out of his saucer sometimes.
“Real new milk!” Tom would say; “have a drop, Charlie, it will do you good.”
“Do you really mean it?” Charlie would ask, talking with those great eyes of his.
“Of course I do,” puss would reply.
About a minute after this, Charlie would be coming flying up the back stairs as if the house were on fire, with Tom behind him, whacking him all the way, and crying:
“I’ll teach you to touch my milk.”
Sometimes Charlie would have a bone, and when done with it, would hide it in a corner. Well, pussy would settle down behind it, and presently when Charlie came back:
“Come away, Charlie,” pussy would say, or seem to say. “Come away, dear; I’ve been watching your bone. Those thieving rats, you know.”
“O, thank you, Tom,” Charlie would say.