The Story of My Cats 



fered him at the end of a reed. He took it. 

 And the mouthfuls succeeded one another to 

 such good purpose that he was sated and went 

 off, heedless of the "Puss! Puss!" of his com- 

 passionate friends. Hunger returned; and 

 the starveling reappeared in his wall-top 

 refectory. He received the same fare of 

 bread soaked in milk, the same soft words. 

 He allowed himself to be tempted. He came 

 down from the wall. The children were able 

 to stroke his back. Goodness, how thin he 



was! 



It was the great topic of conversation. 

 We discussed it at table : we would tame the 

 vagabond, we would keep him, we would 

 make him a bed of hay. It was a most im- 

 portant matter: I can see to this day, I shall 

 always see the council of rattleheads deli- 

 berating on the Cats fate. They were not 

 satisfied until the savage animal remained. 

 Soon he grew into a magnificent Tom. His 

 large round head, his muscular legs, his red- 

 dish fur, flecked with darker patches, re- 

 minded one of a little jaguar. He was 

 christened Ginger because of his tawny hue. 

 A mate joined him later, picked up in almost 

 similar circumstances. Such was the origin 



III 



