The Slum Cat 
darkey did the honors. He had been a Sixth 
Avenue barber, and he could put on more pomp 
and lofty hauteur in five minutes than Jap Ma- 
lee could have displayed in a lifetime, and this, 
doubtless, was one reason for the respectful 
reception awarded the Royal Analostan at the 
Cat Show. 
Jap was very proud to be an exhibitor; but 
he had all a Cockney’s reverence for the 
upper class, and when on the opening day he 
went to the door, he was overpowered to see 
the array of carriages and silk hats. The gate- 
man looked at him sharply, but passed him on 
his ticket, doubtless taking him for stable-boy 
to some exhibitor. The hall had velvet car- 
pets before the long rows of cages. Jap, in his 
small cunning, was sneaking down the side 
rows, glancing at the Cats of all kinds, noting 
the blue ribbons and the reds, peering about 
but not daring to ask for his own exhibit, inly 
trembling to think what the gorgeous gathering 
of fashion would say if they discovered the 
trick he was playing on them. He had passed 
all around the outer aisles and seen many prize- 
winners, but no sign of Slum Kitty. The inner 
39 
