XXII 
JACOB HUGHES’ OPINION OF CATS 
OnE morning after a light snowstorm, followed by 
sparkling sunshine, Gray Lady took the younger children 
out for a walk through Birdland and the lane. Not but 
what even the younger children knew the way! But often 
as they had trodden it, there were many things that they 
noticed for the first time: the wonderful shapes of the 
snow crystals, the snow flowers that blossomed on the old 
weed stalks, the snow filling that brought many hidden 
nests into view, and all the other wonders that are so often 
wrought in the winter night, while we sleep soundly. 
Tommy and Dave, who had walked on ahead, halted 
suddenly and picked up a handful of feathers from the 
snow and stood looking at them as Gray Lady came up. 
“A bad Hawk or a Crow or Owl or something big has 
been here,’”’ said Dave, with a quaver in his voice, “and 
it’s killed a banty rooster that looks just like mine, that 
is, this bunch of feathers does; but then, Goldilocks has 
banties, too, so perhaps it is one of hers,” and he held the 
feathers up. 
Gray Lady took them; yes, they were banty feathers, 
and from a bird that had not been long dead, for the quill 
ends were still moist. Then she looked at the ground: 
“Something that did not fly has killed the bantam, and 
dragged its body along the ground, and it had feet with 
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