“And then he told me of a kitten which came to his mistress’ door one wintry day when the snow was blowing, as he said, great guns, and the mountain ash almost bent up double before the driving wind. His mistress heard the cry, and saw the kitty looking in at the window and begging to come in; and as both she and the master were fond of cats he waded out into the snow and brought the kitty in, and gave it milk in a china saucer in the parlor, and petted it more than they did old Fanny, a highly respectable cat, who had lived with them a long time, and who did not at first take kindly to _Jim_—that was what they called the intruder—but spit at him, and boxed his ears, and growled if he came near her. But Jim was not to be repressed, and cared nothing for Fanny’s growls, or spits, or boxes, but seized every opportunity to jump at her from under chairs and tables, and to spring at her tail, until the old cat’s life was almost a burden to her. At last, however, Jim conquered, and the two were the best of friends, Fanny treating him as if he had been her own, giving him more than half the milk, and even waking him up when the dinner-bell rang, if he happened to be sleeping in the easy-chair near the fire, where he took his usual nap. “‘After a time,’ said Robin, ‘old Fanny died, and was buried in the garden, under the plum-tree, and then Jim was really the master of the house, for I never knew a cat petted as my mistress petted him. And for a cat he was very handsome. He did not grow tall and long, as cats usually do, but was short, and fat, and round as a ball, with fur which shone like satin, and a white spot under his chin. I did not wonder my mistress liked him, he was so playful and affectionate; but it used to make me sick sometimes when she actually kissed him and called him a darling. But when one morning he caught a little striped snake, and carried it to her in triumph, and persisted in keeping it and tossing it in the air in spite of all her efforts to make him drop it, I noticed that she did not fondle him for a week; and I think she put him in the bath-tub, for I saw him lying in the sun, looking very wet and forlorn. But his fur was soon dried, and he raced about the grounds like a mad creature, catching grasshoppers and flies, and worrying almost to death a highly respectable toad, who lived near the cellar door, outside.’ CHAPTER IV. LITTLE STUPID.