As for them, they said they only wore hats for shade when working in the sun; and those were big light straw hats, something like those used in China and Japan. In cold weather they wore caps or hoods. “But for decorative purposes--don’t you think they would be becoming?” pursued Terry, making as pretty a picture as he could of a lady with a plumed hat. They by no means agreed to that, asking quite simply if the men wore the same kind. We hastened to assure her that they did not--drew for them our kind of headgear. “And do no men wear feathers in their hats?” “Only Indians,” Jeff explained. “Savages, you know.” And he sketched a war bonnet to show them. “And soldiers,” I added, drawing a military hat with plumes. They never expressed horror or disapproval, nor indeed much surprise--just a keen interest. And the notes they made!--miles of them! But to return to our pussycats. We were a good deal impressed by this achievement in breeding, and when they questioned us--I can tell you we were well pumped for information--we told of what had been done for dogs and horses and cattle, but that there was no effort applied to cats, except for show purposes. I wish I could represent the kind, quiet, steady, ingenious way they questioned us. It was not just curiosity--they weren’t a bit more curious about us than we were about them, if as much. But they were bent on understanding our kind of civilization, and their lines of interrogation would gradually surround us and drive us in till we found ourselves up against some admissions we did not want to make. “Are all these breeds of dogs you have made useful?” they asked. “Oh--useful! Why, the hunting dogs and watchdogs and sheepdogs are useful--and sleddogs of course!--and ratters, I suppose, but we don’t keep dogs for their _usefulness_. The dog is ‘the friend of man,’ we say--we love them.” That they understood. “We love our cats that way. They surely are our friends, and helpers, too. You can see how intelligent and affectionate they are.” It was a fact. I’d never seen such cats, except in a few rare instances. Big, handsome silky things, friendly with everyone and devotedly attached to their special owners. “You must have a heartbreaking time drowning kittens,” we suggested. But they said, “Oh, no! You see we care for them as you do for your valuable cattle. The fathers are few compared to the mothers, just a few very fine ones in each town; they live quite happily in walled gardens and the houses of their friends. But they only have a mating season once a year.” “Rather hard on Thomas, isn’t it?” suggested Terry. “Oh, no--truly! You see, it is many centuries that we have been breeding the kind of cats we wanted. They are healthy and happy and friendly, as you see. How do you manage with your dogs? Do you keep them in pairs, or segregate the fathers, or what?”