‘And I surely will catch a mouse sometime, I promise you I will,’ said Sally. ‘I don’t think it at all probable,’ he said dryly. ‘You’ll have to learn to brace up first.’ It was springtime before the great event occurred. Every day in the new year Sally had remembered the words of the preacher. She said them over and over to herself every morning, ‘Each day is the beginning of a new year,’ and every morning she had said to herself, ‘I will try to catch a mouse before the day is over.’ Sally thought there were other things in life that were as important as bracing up. Was not patience equally commendable? And how about unselfishness? Would Oxford ever have the patience to sit for hours at a mouse-hole? Would he ever let her take a part of his food? But Oxford was a wonderful cat, a dream to look at compared with her, with his pink nose and his expansive white shirt-front. She had a tiger face and small white shirt-front, and even if patience and perseverance were rewarded at last and she caught her mouse, she could never be a mighty hunter. But he, with his rough ways, was never allowed in the parlor and she was. After all, life had its compensations. All the same, Sally longed to catch a mouse. The exciting event took place when Miss Winifred and Elvira had gone on their usual spring visit to New Hampshire. And it did not happen at all as Sally thought it would. It was early in the morning. Miss Harvey, Sally, and Oxford were alone in the house. Miss Harvey had made the kitchen fire, and put the tea-kettle on the stove. Oxford was just waking up and stretching himself. Sally, who was wide awake, saw a mouse glide past her on the freshly scrubbed kitchen floor. She darted forward and seized the mouse. She had it firmly in her mouth. It was still alive, but she knew it could not escape. Oxford roused himself. Sally looked at him with triumph in her eyes. ‘See what I have caught. Didn’t I tell you I would catch a mouse?’ she seemed to say. [Illustration] Oxford dashed forward angrily and knocked the mouse out of Sally’s mouth. Sally had never been so angry in her life. Miss Harvey, hearing the commotion, turned just before Oxford had reached Sally. She saw what happened. The mouse was flying along the kitchen floor toward the outside door. Miss Harvey thought it most provoking of Oxford. ‘Poor dear,’ she said to Sally, ‘it was your mouse.’ Sally was glad some one understood.