The Slum Cat 
for the kitchen, the cook, and the garbage- 
pail. 
The family, though distressed by these distin- 
guished peculiarities, were glad to see the Royal 
Analostan more contented and approachable. 
They gave her more liberty after a week or 
two. They guarded her from every menace. 
The Dogs were taught to respect her. No 
man or boy about the place would have 
dreamed of throwing a stone at the famous 
pedigreed Cat. She had all the food she 
wanted, but still she was not happy. She was 
hankering for many things, she scarcely knew 
what. She had everything — yes, but she wanted 
something else. Plenty to eat and drink—yes, 
but milk does not taste the same when you 
can go and drink all you want from a saucer ; 
it has to be stolen out of a tin pail when you 
are belly-pinched with hunger and thirst, or it 
does not have the tang—it is n’t milk. 
Yes, there was a junk-yard back of the 
house and beside it and around it too, a big 
one, but it was everywhere poisoned and pol- 
luted with roses. The very Horses and Dogs 
had the wrong smells ; the whole country round 
3) 
