The man who took Dick to live with him was sad to see him such a bad boy, and did not know what to do with him.
Dick had now no joy in life, for no bad boy can be gay and glad. But he did not like to feel that he was made sad by his own bad ways. He said it was the way he had to live that made him bad.
Poor Dick had now no one to love him but a cat. One day, when he was out at play, he saw some boys pelt a cat to kill her. He did not like to have them kill the cat, so he ran to her, took her up in his arms, and took her home. The girl let him keep the cat, for she kept off all the rats and mice. She was a gray cat. She had fine soft fur, and a long tail. When Dick had done his tea, he took puss on his knee to pat her on the head, and talk to her, as if she knew all that he said to her.
She then did rub her head on his arm, and purr, and lie down on his knee and take a nap. She had her bed on his heap of rags.
Once when Dick had felt bad all day, he lay down on his bed. He said to puss, “No one is kind to me but you, puss; no one has love for me. I will run off. I will not stay.”