"The Cat's" First Steeplechase 



We certainly found boots galore, hunting boots, racing 

 boots, etc., etc., when we had the joy of ransacking Uncle 

 Tom's old chests of clothes. But the size of these boots ? 

 That was the rub ! However, as my brothers had quite 

 determined that they must have racing boots — and these at all 

 events were not too small — we felt sure that we could devise 

 a plan of making them as wearable as they were appropriate. 

 And this we did, with what result will be seen afterwards. 

 During these at first seemingly interminable two weeks our 

 time was fully and delightfully occupied by superintending and 

 watching our good household tailor, Josiah Fytche, cutting out, 

 trying on, and otherwise busying himself in carrying out the 

 racing jackets and caps from correct grown-up patterns, and 

 from the calico which had arrived in due course, not only quite 

 perfect in colour, but looking so like silk that we forgot to be 

 disappointed that it was only an imitation. 



The breeches, too, had to be tried on many a time before 

 they could be pronounced comfortable and workmanlike. And 

 the delight of the feel of a first pair of well-made and comfort- 

 able riding breeches must be known to be appreciated. 



Good kind old friend, tailor Fytche ! Truly he took as 

 much interest in that racing outfit as we did ourselves, and 

 repaid the infinite variety of our childish teasings — for he was 

 a constant worker in our house, sitting cross-legged upon a 

 table in our big front kitchen — by a nobility of spirit that 

 scorned to take a mean advantage upon us, when we were in 

 such deadly earnest to get all things ready in time for the great 

 day, by even pretending to be slow. I really believe, moreover, 

 that we had the grace from that time forth to no longer hide 

 his beeswax, to blunt his big scissors, or to squirm so per- 

 sistently when he was trying on any of our clothes, that it was 

 almost an impossibility to make a good fit. 



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