Poor Lops! Though cared for as few pets are—fed with dainty pecan-nuts and other delicacies from his far-off home across the ocean, and though he loved his mistress Mabel, Jack’s sister, devotedly—yet he was never happy as I was. The damp and cold of our climate oppressed him, and most of his time he spent curled up tightly among the soft bedding of his cage. Then, too, he was a creature of the night, and it was only after dark that he would wake and want to play—and at that time, except for an hour or two, there was no one to play with. I felt very sorry for him, and so, too, were Mabel and the boys. I am sure that if they could they would have set him free again among the great tropical forests that he loved so well, and always mourned for, though only I knew how deeply. As for me, life ran most pleasantly. I grew plump on the good food I was supplied with. My coat became long and sleek, and my tail, which had been a mere furry appendage like that of a little colt, grew into a glorious brush of richest red-brown, long enough and thick enough to cover me completely when I curled up to sleep. Jack was very proud of my looks, and used to groom me all over with a little brush—a process which I soon grew very fond of. We two came to understand one another most marvellously. I could always tell him what I wanted, whether it was food, or a game, or to be allowed to creep into his coat-pocket and go to sleep there. One day he opened my cage, slipped me into his pocket, and walked off, and when he took me out again I was out of doors once more! I cannot tell you how it affected me. You know, we wild creatures—born wild, I mean—never quite forget our rightful heritage of freedom, and here, for the first time for many weeks, I found myself out in the open. Jack was seated on a wooden bench under a clump of evergreen shrubs in the midst of a great expanse of smooth-shaven lawn. It was August now, and the sun poured down hotter than ever it had been in those June days in the wood. Big bumble-bees droned lazily by; a robin was perched on the bare ground at the foot of an _arbor vitæ_, cocking a soft round eye at us; all the subtle, fascinating odours of summer were in my nostrils. I gave one spring from his knee on to the back of the bench, and sat there, head high, snuffing the sweet air, and quivering all over with excitement. Jack never moved, and for the moment he passed completely out of my remembrance. My brain was crammed to bursting with half-forgotten instincts and remembrances which crowded in upon me.