She first kept all of her pets a day without food, and then the next day placed the cat between the dogs while she fed him his breakfast. After that the cat and the dogs became such good friends that they all slept together. At the next meal she took one of the canaries, put him on her finger, and petted him while she held "Mittens" in her lap and fed him. This she did several times, and then let all of the birds fly around the cat. The latter never attempted to touch one, and frequently to-day you may see "Mittens" slumbering peacefully before the fire, with a canary nestled on the soft fur of his back. [Illustration: IN THE LONG-HAIRED CAT-ROOM.] While there were many more short-haired cats on exhibition for prizes, the long-haired ones created more attention because they are much less common. They had a separate room to themselves upstairs, and a band of music played for them lest they should forget that many of them were descended from cat emperors and princes in the far-off East. There was "Ajax," a white Angora, with firm mouth and keen eyes, his fluffy white mane looking like a lion's, every inch of him a king. There was "Paderewski," blue-ribboned, with longer and thicker hair than the famous musician whose name he bears. Near by an interested crowd watched "Ellen Terry" and her seven kittens. "Ellen" is a large white and orange Angora, and very cozy were she and her kittens in a basket lined with yellow silk and trimmed with dotted muslin. Her manners were perfect, for whenever her cunning little kittens were caressed she showed no surprise, but looked on with calm maternal pride. Just to show by contrast how very aristocratic these long-haired cats were, six or eight lost cats from the Shelter for Animals (where lost and homeless cats are cared for) were exhibited near the haughty Angoras. All but one looked sadly out of place. They were thin, their fur was uneven, and the disdainful sniffs which their Persian and Angora neighbors gave them made them feel very miserable indeed. But one of them, though, a short-haired cat, looked as if his grandfather had been a somebody in the cat kingdom, and he seemed to say, "Though appearances are against me, please don't think that I belong to this vulgar herd of tramp cats." And he was vindicated, for the third day of the show a little girl came rushing over to the cage with a glad cry of recognition, which the cat immediately responded to by joyful purring. The cat had been lost for over two weeks, and now as his young mistress took him away he looked back at his proud long-haired neighbors with a smile, which meant, "Ah, you see I'm somebody, after all!"