‘Dear me!’ said Miss Winifred, ‘I wonder how long you have been waiting here.’ She took out her latch-key and, as she opened the door, the kittens slipped in ahead of her. They ran along to the door that led to the kitchen. Miss Winifred followed them and, as it was dark in that corner, she stooped down to see if the kittens were there. Yes, she felt two furry backs, they were patiently waiting for her to open the door. Once in the kitchen, Oxford gave a leap from a chair to the small shelf on which the clock stood, for on it were the catnip mice. He knocked off first one and then the other. ‘Bless your heart,’ said Elvira, as she looked at Sally. ‘You look a little peaked to-day. Too many grasshoppers, I fear.’ Miss Harvey came into the kitchen just then and Sally got into her lap and put her two paws around her neck, for she wanted a little petting. There are times when this is even more comforting than catnip. ‘My poor little Sally,’ said Miss Harvey, as she stroked the pussy. ‘My poor, dear, little Sally. Did she feel as if she wanted some one to pet her? I understand, dear, just how you feel.’ Miss Harvey was tactful enough not to refer to the grasshoppers. Oxford was already playing with his catnip mouse, tossing it high in the air and running to sniff it where it fell. Suddenly Sally scrambled down from Miss Harvey’s lap and flew toward Oxford’s mouse, seizing it before his astonished eyes. ‘Silly kittens,’ said Elvira. ‘There are two mice, you can each have one,’ and she picked up the other mouse and threw it on the floor. Then they both ran to get that mouse. Sally had it in her mouth and Oxford knocked it out. ‘Oh, if that is your game, all right,’ said Elvira, who was an understanding person. Sally felt much refreshed after half an hour spent with the catnip mice, and as usually happened after a time with this stimulating plaything, she felt like talking in verse instead of prose. Even Oxford felt like answering back in rhyme. It was a fine game. _Sally_: I’d like to be a lady fair, All dressed in silks and fur, With rosy lips and golden hair, And speech, instead of purr. My father’d give me a fur coat, And on a summer day, When on the waters I could float, I’d put my coat away. Were I in silk instead of fur, How pleasant that would be, Pink silk I’d choose, and, Oxford Gray, You’d be so proud of me! _Oxford_: Pink silk, indeed, you foolish maid, Why can’t you be content? You’re costumed for both sun and shade, Nor does it cost a cent. Sally, I’d hate the sight of you, I like you as you are, A modest kitten, sweet and true, With eyes that see afar.