Sally was a very busy cat, and she always gave her whole attention to whatever she was doing, whether it was sitting on her register, or washing her face, or helping Miss Harvey make the beds. Indeed, Miss Harvey often would say, ‘Sally, you are like the little busy bee,’ and she would repeat a part of the poem. Sally had her own opinion of the little busy bee, and she did not especially like to be told she was like him, for she had been stung by a bee on one occasion. Who could have suspected that anything so small could hurt one so much? And then where was he in winter? Certainly not gathering honey from every opening flower. She suspected he was in snug quarters resting and leading an idle life, while she was busy all the year around. First there was the delicious breakfast that Miss Harvey gave Oxford and herself, of warm milk and oatmeal, and then she spent a great deal of time washing herself. And she had to help Oxford, for he could not wash behind his ears, and then he would wash behind Sally’s ears to help her out. And it took a good deal of time to manicure her nails. But where she felt she was of the greatest use was in helping Miss Harvey with the beds, for dear Miss Harvey might have been lonely without her. Did she not often say, ‘You are my little comfort’? To be sure she sometimes said, ‘Troublesome comfort,’ but it was a great deal to be any comfort. Sally never heard Miss Harvey call any one else in the house a comfort, not even Oxford, who deserved such words, for he was ridding the house of mice. So Miss Harvey and Sally would go upstairs to make the beds; as soon as Miss Harvey had turned back the mattress and put on a sheet, Sally would jump on the bed and knead the sheet with her paws. But she liked to get on the blankets much the best, they were so soft and woolly, and sometimes after patticaking them well and going around in a circle as if she were making a bed for herself in the Wild Wood, she would curl herself up in a ball and settle down for a nap. It was then that Miss Harvey would call her a troublesome comfort and gently take her off and put her on a chair. But Sally would be back again and on the spread. One of Sally’s most interesting occupations was looking out of the windows. There was so much to be seen even in winter, but when the spring came and there was a faint green fuzz on the trees, and the birds came back from the South and began to sing, and Sally could sun herself out-of-doors, she was busier than ever.