OUR DOGS. 137 



It is true, he sometimes came back from these encoun 

 ters with a scratched and bloody nose, for Thomas Henry 

 was a cat of no mean claw, and would turn to bay at 

 times; but generally he felt the exertion too much for his 

 advanced years and quiet habits, and so for safety he 

 passed much of his time in the sink, over the battlements 

 of which he would leisurely survey the efforts of the enemy 

 to get at him. The cook hinted strongly of the danger of 

 rheumatism to her favorite from these damp quarters, but 

 Wix at present was the reigning favorite, and it was vain 

 to dispute his sway. 



Next to Thomas Henry, Wix directed his principal 

 efforts to teasing Grandmamma. Something or other about 

 her black dress and quiet movements seemed to suggest to 

 him suspicions. He viewed her as something to be nar 

 rowly watched ; he would lie down under some chair or 

 table, and watch her motions with his head on his fore- 

 paws as if he were watching at a rat-hole. She evidently 

 was not a rat, he seemed to say to himself, but who knows 

 what she may be ; and he would wink at her with his 

 great bright eyes, and, if she began to get up, would 

 spring from his ambush and bark at her feet with frantic 

 energy, by which means he nearly threw her over two 

 or three times. 



His young mistress kept a rod, and put him through a 

 severe course of discipline for these offences ; after which 



