“I got along famously with the children, although they were a little rough at times. Johnny was somewhat inclined to be gay once in a while, but I came out all right. I remember one close call I had, though. Ethel wanted to play I was sick one day, and that Johnny was a doctor. They gave me some of the worst stuff a fellow ever tasted--just held me and poured it down my neck! Then Master Johnny suddenly discovered that I had ‘tonsillitis,’ whatever that is. He’d heard his papa use the word, I s’pose. I must be ‘operated,’ the little rascal said, and going into the doctor’s surgery he got a vicious looking instrument. Ethel held me, and the amateur doctor proceeded to plunge his devilish contrivance down my throat! After fishing up a few chunks of spleen, and liver, and things, Johnny let me go, saying, ‘Madam, your child will get well now.’ I did get well, but my internal revenue and things have never since felt just right. “But Johnny was my friend just the same. Gosh!--how he did lick a rude, vulgar boy who threw stones at me one day! ’Twould have done your heart good to see him. “Ethel and I used to have some awfully nice times together. She used to dress me up in doll’s clothes and play I was a baby. And then she would put me in a little cradle and rock me to sleep. The dear child used to be so pleased because I lay so still, and she used to say I was ‘a dear, good, sweet little kitty.’ To tell the truth, though, I just had to lie still, for those long clothes used to trip me up every time I tried to walk. I did try to sneak away one time, and fell down stairs and almost broke my neck. “But the baby was my special delight. He was a fat, roly-poly, sweet faced youngster as ever you saw. His skin was like a pink rose-leaf, and his mouth was as fresh--well, as fresh as new milk. Whenever the folks weren’t looking, I used to climb into the crib and little Harry and I would have a high old time, I tell you. He would maul me about for a little while and then hug and kiss me just awful nice. And then when we’d got all tired out he would snuggle up close to me and go to sleep--and I would lie there quite still and watch him while he slept. “The folks would catch me in the crib sometimes, and whew! but then there was a row, and no mistake! They used to just paralyze me--said I’d suck the baby’s breath, you know. The stupids! Why should I do that? I like babies, but lunching on babyfied air wouldn’t do me in those days, though it might be substantial enough now. Human folks have some queer notions, eh, Fido?” “Oh, well, you know, Tommy,” said Fido, “that out-of-date ‘sucking the breath’ business is an old woman’s notion, but humans don’t seem to have much judgment. They still believe in miracles and all that, and the breath-sucking theory shouldn’t surprise you.” “Speaking of the peculiarities of humanity, Fido,” said Tommy, “isn’t it queer that humans don’t like music?”