Wow! but it was wet! I stood a moment undecided, but then I saw that good Tom on the other side of the patch of grass dangling something in his hand. My courage came to me and I darted across, squelching out wet at every step I took. Tom, of course, wasn't at the other end when I got there, but at the place I had just left, still waving the enticing thing, whatever it was. I scuttled after him, and we played that game three times, and I felt like a new cat. The fourth time he stayed, and let me get hold of the object, which was nothing more than an old leather bit of strap that he punished the dogs with, and when I had got my teeth well into it, he caught me up by it and carried me back to Beatrice. 'Here's your precious cat! Now dry his feet and polish them up for all you're worth; put a shine on them, if you can'--he handed her a towel--'and don't leave a wet hair on him.' I was all right after that. Also the rime went off the grass, and it was rather fine for October, and they got into the way of letting me go out a little regularly. Auntie May protested, and said it had never been done in our family, but Tom assured her it could do me no harm if I was brought in and not allowed to sit about with damp feet. I simply loved Tom, for it was he who cured me far more than the massage, and got me leave to run about in the garden and try to catch things. I never caught anything, but all sorts of things tried to catch me. Once it was three thrushes that hunted me across the lawn in front of the drawing-room windows, and a strange dog once strayed in, attracted by the sight of me, and I should have had a bad time, only that Beatrice always took care to have a window left open somewhere on all the sides of the house for me to fly in to in case of need. The _house_ dogs had all been introduced to me and told to leave me alone, and they jolly well obeyed. Beatrice said she never could have believed that they would have tolerated me as they did. They not only tolerated me--I saw to that myself, for I very soon began to lord it over them and take any seat I fancied, even though it had been Peg's or Meg's before--they got to treat me as gentlemen treat ladies, moving out of any nice place when I approached, and never thinking of going out of a room before me. We could not understand each other in the least, and I have often wondered why, since I can understand Beatrice and Auntie May, and all the big ones so well. The dogs make absurd noises and bark, but perhaps it means nothing, and they only _think_ they are talking! Anyway they are not nearly such conversational creatures as cats; they often get through a whole day without uttering a sound. Now I can't even enter a room without making a remark, and when anything has happened to me I come in and tell Them, forgetting They can't understand me. Auntie May always listens politely.