'You wanted,' said mother, 'the China Cat. Well, you may have it.' 'For my very own?' 'For your very own. But you must be very careful not to break it. And you mustn't give it away. It goes with the house. Your Aunt Jane made me promise to keep it in the family. It's very, very old. Don't take it out of doors for fear of accidents.' 'I love the White Cat, mother,' said Tavy. 'I love it better'n all my toys.' Then mother told Tavy several things, and that night when he went to bed Tavy repeated them all faithfully to the China Cat, who was about six inches high and looked very intelligent. 'So you see,' he ended, 'the wicked lawyer's taken nearly all mother's money, and we've got to leave our own lovely big White House, and go and live in a horrid little house with another house glued on to its side. And mother does hate it so.' 'I don't wonder,' said the China Cat very distinctly. '_What!_' said Tavy, half-way into his night-shirt. 'I said, I don't wonder, Octavius,' said the China Cat, and rose from her sitting position, stretched her china legs and waved her white china tail. 'You can speak?' said Tavy. 'Can't you see I can?--hear I mean?' said the Cat. 'I belong to you now, so I can speak to you. I couldn't before. It wouldn't have been manners.' Tavy, his night-shirt round his neck, sat down on the edge of the bed with his mouth open. 'Come, don't look so silly,' said the Cat, taking a walk along the high wooden mantelpiece, 'any one would think you didn't _like_ me to talk to you.' 'I _love_ you to,' said Tavy recovering himself a little. 'Well then,' said the Cat. 'May I touch you?' Tavy asked timidly. 'Of course! I belong to you. Look out!' The China Cat gathered herself together and jumped. Tavy caught her. It was quite a shock to find when one stroked her that the China Cat, though alive, was still china, hard, cold, and smooth to the touch, and yet perfectly brisk and absolutely bendable as any flesh and blood cat. 'Dear, dear white pussy,' said Tavy, 'I do love you.' 'And I love you,' purred the Cat, 'otherwise I should never have lowered myself to begin a conversation.' 'I wish you were a real cat,' said Tavy. 'I am,' said the Cat. 'Now how shall we amuse ourselves? I suppose you don't care for sport--mousing, I mean?' 'I never tried,' said Tavy, 'and I think I rather wouldn't.' 'Very well then, Octavius,' said the Cat. 'I'll take you to the White Cat's Castle. Get into bed. Bed makes a good travelling carriage, especially when you haven't any other. Shut your eyes.' Tavy did as he was told. Shut his eyes, but could not keep them shut. He opened them a tiny, tiny chink, and sprang up. He was not in bed. He was on a couch of soft beast-skin, and the couch stood in a splendid hall, whose walls were of gold and ivory. By him stood the White Cat, no longer china, but real live cat--and fur--as cats should be.