'Dear ma'am, we have no fire!' exclaimed poor Tibb, as if astonished at the very idea of such a luxury; 'my mistress won't have a fire till she wants to boil her dinner.'
'Then how do you ever keep yourself warm?' asked Friskarina, quite horror-struck.
'Please, my lady, I never am warm,' said poor Tibb, in a very melancholy voice.
Friskarina was ready to cry, 'And you say they never give you any dinner, either?' she said.
'Very seldom, indeed, your ladyship.'
'But your mistress must be dreadfully cruel,' exclaimed Friskarina, 'to take no more care of you than that!'
'What can she do?' replied Tibb, 'she has not got enough for herself and her daughter, so it is not likely she can give me anything. If your gracious ladyship would just please to step this way, and peep under the door, you will see how my mistress lives.' So saying, Tibb led the way to the hut; and Friskarina, crouching down to a very wide chink under the door, saw a dwelling, the mere notion of which had never entered her imagination till that moment.
'And have you lived here all your life?' she said, drawing back at length, and looking with the most sincere compassion at Tibb.
'Where else could I go, my lady?' replied the poor cat; 'it is better than lying in the road.'
'And you absolutely don't know what it is to have a good dinner? How very shocking! But now listen to me, Tibb; do you think you can manage to climb over that wall?'