T.—Good-morning, Mistress Pussy.
P.—Good-morning, Mr. Towser. I hope you're well.
T.—I am very tired. I had to bark a great deal in the night.
P.—Really! I am sorry to hear that. You must do as I do, come and sleep on the hearth-rug during the day.
T.—I only wish I could, but I am much too busy a dog for that.
P.—Are you? What do you do all day?
T.—First of all, I have to be ready to bite the postman's legs when he comes at eight, and then to bark at him as he goes across the road.
P.—It must be difficult to bark—I am sure I should never manage it.
T.—It is very difficult indeed—I am the only person in the house that can manage it. Then when the postman has gone, I go into the kitchen to help the cook to get rid of the bones and scraps that are left.
P.—The worst of bones is, they are so dreadfully hard. I much prefer a saucer of milk, or a fish's tail. Oh how delicious that is!