I was very much interested. “I suppose if any bad man stole me, and put me in his pocket, you would smell me.”
“I'd smell one of your hairs,” said Mona calmly. “What's a dog's scent for? You've got a nose of your own. You understand.”
“Yes, I do,” I said. Then I went on, “Mona, no one tried to steal me.”
“I know that,” she said coolly. “You're up to some mischief of your own, and I'm going to find out what it is.”
“I'll tell you,” I said, and I went close up to her, and sat between her great paws. “Don't touch that mutton, Mona; it's for my friend. Have you ever seen that poor homeless cat here on this Common?”
“Yes, I've seen her.”
“You have never chased her?”
“When I chase sick cats I'll have less to do than I have now,” said Mona contemptuously.
“Well,” I went on, “she is dreadfully unhappy, and almost starved. Little Mary has worried so much about her, that I resolved to do something to ease her mind, and lately I've been running out with scraps for the homeless creature. Yesterday our little mistress caught sight of her from her window, and she was so pleased, for she noticed that the poor wretch did not look so thin. 'I do believe,' she said joyfully, 'that the Common cat has found a friend.'”
“Why don't you bring her to the house?” asked Mona suspiciously.