There were besides some little dogs in the house which he also had to wait upon, but not so much attention was bestowed upon these as upon the cats, who were treated like Lady Ahavzi's own children. Altogether, Muck now lived almost as solitarily as when he was in his late father's house; for, with the exception of his mistress, he only saw, during the whole day, cats and dogs. For a short time little Muck fared very well, he had always plenty to eat and little to do, and the old woman seemed to be quite satisfied with him; but by degrees the cats became troublesome; whenever the old lady was out they bounded about the room like mad, setting everything pell-mell, and breaking many valuable vases which stood in their way. But when they heard their mistress coming up the stairs they crept up to their cushions, wagging their little tails to welcome her as if nothing had occurred. Lady Ahavzi then became angry on seeing her rooms in such a disordered state, blaming Muck for it; and however much he might protest his innocence, she had more confidence in her cats, which looked so innocent, than in her own servant. Little Muck was very sad that he had not found his fortune here, and resolved to quit the service of Madam Ahavzi. But as he had discovered during his former travels how difficult it was to live without money, he determined to obtain his wages, which his mistress had always promised, but never given him, by some means or other. In the house of Madam Ahavzi was a chamber which was always locked, and the interior of which he had never seen. He had, however, often heard the woman making a noise in it, and for the life of him he would have liked to know what she kept hidden there. While thinking of his money for travelling, it occurred to him that it was probably there that Madam Ahavzi kept her treasures. The door, however, was always firmly locked, and he was unable therefore to get near them.