Of course I’m not under Jim’s thumb. Yesterday we were walking together in the cool of the evening on the croquet ground, and my old ladies saw us, and rushed out as if I was taking a stroll with the devil. Jim had to hurry, and they picked me up, and told me he was a bad companion and would teach me all sorts of wicked things. What fools women are! I fancy I know a bit more than they think already. And as to Jim--why I teach _him_. He says that I’m always well worth listening to, and constantly asks my advice. Am growing quickly now, and begin to see a little society. Ethel’s wedding comes off this day fortnight. I shall give my first party on that evening. A quiet wedding it is to be; but probably a noisy party. Jim is asking the cats. He says I cannot be too careful about invitations. No doubt he is right. Good fellow, Jim, and worships me. Learning to sing a little. The ladies like it--not my old ladies, but the young ones of my own species. We are badly off for ladies in this terrace; still, I have my eye on a pretty little thing--black, with white paws. She is coming to the party. No catch socially, but love levels all--so Jim says. (Ethel’s wedding breakfast will include salmon. I heard the cook say so.) Row with the oldest of my old ladies. She can’t understand that a cat gets beyond the cork-on-a-string stage. I’m growing up fast. Not that I don’t have a game on the quiet sometimes, but never before people. They turn me out at night now. Much pleasanter. Supped with Jim down the road at his own place. A fair bit of haddock, but no style. There are children in the house. * * * * *