Now, what would you do and what would you say if you were roused at night, led by your family into a conflict, only to find an old and trusted friend robbing the henroost? I probably felt all your emotions when I caught sight of that robber. The piano had been left open, and there, walking up and down the keyboard impartially on black and white was my old friend Lump—the deaf cat. He was taking advantage of a night in the house to go on a voyage of exploration. His jump on to the piano led to my disgrace. The “robber” was quickly flung into outer darkness by an indignant woman, and probably I escaped a plain recital of my shortcomings only by lack of hearing. Do you know, while I would congratulate the husband on his escape, I always feel sorry for the lady, who would be well justified in giving her man a full lecture, and yet knows that he would not hear it. However, I feel that some innocent member of the family may receive the impact of these remarks. At any rate, before we were settled the baby woke up. It certainly was one of those rare occasions when the deaf man appreciates his advantages enthusiastically. But why did Lump, in spite of his usual good sense, decide to try the piano at midnight? Of course, he did not know he was making a noise; but why mount the piano? I puzzled over this, and the wise old cat looked at me pityingly; but I could not understand. Every time he could slip into the house he went straight to the piano for a promenade up and down the keys. I began to think that we had developed a wonderful “musical cat.” Some time later the piano seemed to need tuning, and a tuner came to take the muffle and twang out of its strings. When he opened up the front, the mystery of the musical cat was revealed. Just behind the keys, inside, was the nest of a mouse; she had carried in a handful of soft material—and in it were half a dozen baby mice. Lump had not been attempting “Home, Sweet Home”; his thought had been more nearly along the line of “Thou Art So Near, and Yet So Far.” He had no ear for music, but he had a nose for mice, and he had demonstrated his knowledge of the habits of mice. I, too, have found it wiser to judge people by their habits rather than by their music, for there are many who would be willing to play “Home, Sweet Home” while in reality they are after the mice. CHAPTER IX THE APPROACH TO SILENCE The Approach of Deafness—The College Woman—Student Methods in General—Calamity and Courage—Animals and Thought Communication—Another Compensation—Pronunciation and the Defensive Campaign.