Two maiden ladies have secured me. Might have been worse, for they are a soft-hearted couple. They tell one another that they have a bargain and think themselves clever to have acquired me for £1 10_s._ They laugh when I am introduced to their wire-haired fox-terrier and put up my back and get ready for him. But it seems he has lived with cats all his life. He wags his tail and makes friends. He appears to be a lumbering, well-meaning fool. His nose will be out of joint in four-and-twenty hours. The old women like me, and stuff me, and decide I shall be called “Shah.” So far so good. They talk a great deal about me, and watch me walk around, and quarrel as to where I shall sleep. It is to be a toss-up between a tool-shed and the kitchen. They decide for kitchen. But, when they have gone to bed, the cook decides for tool-shed. Never trust a servant. They are time-serving wretches. They pretend to like a cat about the place. But not one mistress in a hundred knows what we have to put up with behind her back. * * * * * Distinct score off the cook last night. She left me in the tool-shed, and during some excursions I fetched down a board with a variety of gardening trifles upon it. Of pots there were broken two score. Gardener annoyed. This man will be my thorn in the flesh, I fancy. He dares cook to put me there again. I am left in the garden while they argue. Dog has a kennel, but I don’t like it. He invites me to join him at breakfast. Cold water and stuff he calls biscuit. I explain I shall take my meals with the family. He hopes I am not home-sick, and tells me that he will do all he can to make things pleasant. Snub him. Explain my origin, and let him plainly understand that there is a social gulf fixed between us. He is humble and apologetic. A good breakfast indoors. The cook assures my mistress that I slept in the kitchen and didn’t behave well. I knew she would. Always be on your guard against a liar. * * * * * When a man interferes with my amusement he suffers for it sooner or later. The gardener has told me to keep off a bed of mignonette seed. Fool--he ought to have commanded me to keep on it! A deliberate invitation to do anything in particular always annoys me; a command angers me. I spend much time upon the mignonette. The dog is rather impressed. I invite him to join me, but he refuses, and explains that the gardener dare not touch me, but would not hesitate in his case. Unpleasantness to-day. Was having a game with some stuffed birds in the drawing-room when my old ladies rang for the parlourmaid to remove me. I scratched her hand, and my old ladies laughed and applauded my spirit. But when she got me on the other side of the door, that parlourmaid rubbed it in pretty stiffly. I shan’t forget it. When I’m a grown cat, there will probably be a day of reckoning. * * * * *