'But as I live in London,' retorted Auntie May, 'where there is no long grass—'
'In London,' said Tom, 'I should say myself that a nice tiler and mouser would be more appropriate.'
'I don't like tilers and mousers or beetlers in my bed,' said Auntie May hotly. 'I should never care to kiss cats that had any horrid pursuit of that kind. And as for mice—do you mean to imply, Tom, that Loki cannot catch a mouse as well as anybody if he had the chance?'
Mrs. Gilmour sneered, and Auntie May got quite pink.
'There are plenty in my carpentering shed,' said Tom. 'Why don't you let him have a try?'
'It's disgusting!' said Auntie May. 'But yet—I can't have Loki depreciated and looked down on. Very well, I will turn him in there for a few hours and give him a chance of winning his spurs, only I am not sure if he does that I shall ever feel able to speak to him again! He has something better to do in life than catching mice, but I won't have him humiliated, and he shall show you that he can take mousing in his stride.'
To me she said, 'Now, Loki, do your level best, but only this once, mind. You are not to become a slave to the mousing habit, or let it grow on you. Come along to the carpenter's shed.'
She took me there and left me alone, shutting the door after her. I implored her to stay, but she said No, that I must go through it alone. At first I cried, but becoming convinced she could not hear me, I left off. I played with shavings for about an hour. It was my first introduction to the fascinating, lovely, curly, crunchy, clean, white things. I could bunch them up in my paws and throw them over my shoulder, and they crackled and twisted when I seized them again as if they were alive.
