I was suffering much from my shoulder just at this time, but we were very quiet, and I enjoyed lying on the lounge or in their laps and listening to the stories of the pets they had loved in their childhood. Miss Eleanor would read aloud, and indeed (you may laugh if you please) I could understand the nice things she selected. One day she found some of Martin Luther's sayings. He one day remarked to his dog, that was growling, "Don't growl, little Hans, for in the resurrection thou, too, shalt have a little golden tail." Miss Milly caught me up, saying, "Thou, too, Daisy, shalt go to heaven, and have golden bells on thy collar, for thy tail is more lovely than a golden one could be." "How absurd you are!" said Miss Eleanor. "Well, I do not think it absurd to believe we shall have our dear pets in the hereafter; heaven would not be heaven without them. God has not given them to us to love, without making provision for their hereafter. We have no little hands and feet waiting for us on the 'golden shore,' but little paws of all colors I know will be extended in welcome, and we shall be happy with our own again." This comfortable doctrine suited me and made me very happy. Knowing that I could not live many years longer, the thought of an eternal separation from my loved ones would have been unbearable. I did try to be good and be a comfort to them, but often my good resolutions were put to a hard test. My mistress had one young friend who detested cats. She was very beautiful, and they loved her very much. She came to see us one day, and after greeting them affectionately, she said as her eye fell upon me, "Oh! have you got that old Tom cat now?" How I bristled up! But Miss Milly was equal to her. "Would you like to have me speak of one of your children in this manner?" she said. "I should think not," replied her friend; "but this is only a cat." "And a cat that we both love as dearly as you love your children." My rage at being called a "Tom cat" knew no bounds; it seemed to degrade me, and I thought to myself, "How can I avenge this insult?" One can always find a chance to do wrong, and mine came at once. I espied her hat, gorgeous with feathers, birds, and wings, and brilliant beading. To my great discomfort--for it was very scratchy--I seated myself on the crown. I had no compunction when I heard the crunching of the beads and feathers, as I bent them under me. They seemed to say, "Tom cat,--indeed!" I sat there till I felt pride had been sufficiently levelled; and as I chewed the delicate end of one of the expensive feathers, I felt that I might (in vulgar phrase) call myself even with her. Then I went under the bed, where I could with safety witness the impending tempest. I was not disappointed. Words are powerless to express her wrath. Had her wishes been consulted, I should never have seen the light of another day.