The cook called to him and tried to remove the pail, but it was too late; he continued his cruel work till my four dear little kittens were lost to me forever. When I heard their last feeble wail, I tried to save them or share their fate. I was driven back with laughter, and the blows from a huge stick in the hands of the young murderer soon drove me down to the cellar, where I lay bruised, and oblivious of my pain and loss, for some hours. Late at night I crawled out, faint and hungry, a hopeless outcast on the face of the earth. Tom, one of the neighbors' cats, shared his supper with me, and listened with sympathy to my sad story. "Oh, is that all?" he said, when I had finished. "You may be glad they are dead, and out of the reach of that boy. If he is not hung," said Tom, with a wise shake of his head, "I miss my guess. Why, he is the terror of the neighborhood. He invents cruel things to practise on animals. Some time ago he cut a little baby pup's throat with a penknife, and sewed it up with cotton and a great big needle, while he never winced. The little pup died in great agony. And the boy's mother said, 'The dear child will certainly be a doctor, he has such skill.' Old Tabby, who lives next door, when she heard this speech of his mother's, said, 'He may be, and is, a devil, but he never ought to be a doctor.' And as we all believed in this wise saying, we gave old Tabby three cheers." Tom tried to comfort me, telling such heartrending stories of the abuse of poor cats that my hair stood on end with horror. I then and there vowed hatred to all mankind. Even the peace of this dear home and the love of these dear people have not cured me of my distrust. I see an enemy on every hand. Tom could not console me, and I was too wretched to confide my plans to him. I was suffering intense agony. My breasts were swollen like crab-apples. I could not bear the pain, and dragged myself to a puddle of water, hoping to cool the heat in them. That night's suffering was the turning-point with me. I made up my mind I would take myself miles away from these cruel people, where every hand had been against me and mine. I started slowly, and crawled through alleys and back yards, it seemed to me, for miles. The sound of a human voice, particularly that of a child, acted like a whip on me. I would run till my breath grew short, and I would sink down, feeling I must die, that I could never move again. Then at some sound I would start once more. At last, worn out with fatigue, hunger, and fever (caused by my inflamed breasts), I reached a gate just as it opened to admit a man with groceries. I rushed in, spent and breathless, and hid myself in a dark corner. Here, thought I, will be a rest for one night. As I crouched down in the dark corner, the man came out of the house, with the servant behind him, to close the gate. What an anxious moment for me! She returned to the house without seeing me, and I was safe.