Eugene murmured an almost indistinct reply, and fell into a brown study that lasted until they reached the second colony of cats.
“You musn’t walk any farther,” said the sergeant, after he had scattered the second supply of food on the ground, and the cats had come scampering and cuffing each other aside to reach it. “Come into the office and rest. I have to wait here a while.”
Eugene went with him into a little wooden building, and sat down by the window where he could watch the animals outside. “Their coats are very thick,” he said musingly, “or is it that they are sticking out their hairs?”
“No; their coats are really heavy. They get that way after they have lived out-doors for some time.”
“Have these animals all been cast out by some one?”
“Every man Jack of them,” said the sergeant; “cast out, or frightened out, or scolded out, or kicked out. They come mewing and cringing to this park, most of them scared out of their lives, only here and there a bold one.”
“Unfortunates,” said Eugene bitterly, “it would be better for them to die.”
“They think it more fun to live and have a good time. They don’t mind dependence. Bless you, we’ve all got to be looked after. Where would I be if I hadn’t my wife to take care of me? what would she do without me?”
“Have no thought for her,” said Eugene magnificently. “If misfortune befalls you, I shall take her under my protection.”