Nose around the kitchen floor, and glean a bit of onion, an imitation tortoise-shell comb, a shrimp (almost entire), an abominably stale chunk of bread, and about half a yard of capital string. After coal, I think I like string best. The family have noticed what a lot of this I stow away, and it was not a bad idea of young Mr. Brown’s, the other day, that, if I had the end of a piece of string always hanging from my mouth, they could use me as a string-box. Though it is scarcely a matter for joking about. Still, it made me laugh. 8:30. If one had to rely on other people one might starve. Fortunately, in the hall I happen on the treacle-pudding, and I get first look in. Lap up the treacle, and leave the suet for the family. A1. [Illustration] 8:40. Down into the kitchen again. Sit by the fire, and pretend I don’t know what treacle is like. But that vile cat is there, and I believe she guesses—keeps looking round at me with her hateful superior look. Dash her, what right has she got to give herself such airs? She’s not half my size, and pays no taxes. Dash her smugness. Dash her altogether. The sight of her maddens me—and, when her back is turned, I rush at her, and bite her. The crafty coward wags her tail, pretending she likes it, so I do it again, and then she rounds on me, and scratches my paw viciously, drawing blood, and making me howl with pain. This brings Miss Brown down in a hurry. She kisses me, tells the cat she is a naughty cat (_I’d_ have killed her for it), gives me some sugar, and wraps the paw up in a bread-poultice. Lord, how that girl loves me! 9:0. Ate the bread-poultice. 9:15. Begin to get sleepy. 9:15 to 10:0. Dozed. 10:0. Led to kennel. 10:15. Lights out. Thus ends another dernd dull day. [Illustration] * * * * * * Transcriber’s note: Obviously missing punctuation added. Time: . replaced by : e.g. 3.15 changed to 3:15, otherwise time display conventions left as printed. Original justification style of paragraphs not retained. Out of order pages in original re-ordered to follow time sequence.