Then I made up my mind to investigate it. Soon my opportunity came. All the people had gone to ride, and I was making a tour of the house, when loud breathing convinced me my old man was at home. Bad cat that I was, I just followed the noise, and sure enough, there he lay, flat on his back, his mouth wide open, sound asleep. Of course I climbed up and looked into his open mouth. Another discovery I made: he had not one tooth in his head! And the wind and spray that covered me, from his open mouth, satisfied me with a brief investigation. On the floor, by his side, lay the bone of contention, the brown wig I had speculated on so long. I grabbed it, and carrying it into a corner, inspected it thoroughly. Then I clawed it a little, and at last seated myself in it. Something about it acted like a narcotic, and in this uncomfortable bird's nest I fell asleep. I dreamed that I was sitting under the piazza, when I heard voices. One of them said: "Why should not cat's fur be used for wigs and bangs? Gray hair is so fashionable." "Oh," replied a young voice, "think of Aunt Sally with a maltese front-piece, and Grandpa and Uncle Jim with tiger-cat wigs!" "Well," replied the first speaker, "if it were the fashion, we should like it. That great, pampered cat belonging to those two big-feeling old maids would make nice wigs, for his fur is as soft as silk." "Yes, and that long tail of his," said the young girl, "would make a beautiful tippet, with a squirrel's head on it." "But," lowering her voice, "if Brother Rob was here I would get him to coax him off, and get his skin. It would make a beautiful rug for my room." Just then a shout awoke me, and the old man on the lounge also. He fought wildly for his wig. Dazed by my dream, I sat blinking my half-open eyes from one to the other. They were just screaming with laughter at the sight I presented, seated in Grandfather's wig. Miss Milly took me out rather roughly, I thought, and smoothed it as well as she could. The old man looked on in surprise, muttering, "I knew that durned critter was up to mischief." After it was combed out and put on right, the old man, conciliated by a good dinner that he loved, invited me to a seat on his knee in token of his forgiveness. I declined the favor with scorn. Sit on a knee covered with corduroy when all my life I had been used to broadcloth? _Never!_ My dream troubled me very much. I am a superstitious cat, and believe in warnings. So I kept close to my mistress; for in every one that approached I saw an enemy ready to despoil me of my beautiful fur coat. Though I am a good judge of human nature, as silent people are apt to be, I never had that confidence in people, that makes life so pleasant, I had felt before my dream.