THE JEALOUS LITTLE DOG. 183 



These little nerves tell it just what is good to eat. What is not 

 good is sent out through these queer points, just as if it were a 

 sifter. The nerves in this funny sieve take very good care that 

 nothing shallbe lost that is worth the eating. 



You know all about the little birds that build nests with their 

 bills, and what wonderful things they are. Some can sew very 

 well with their beaks; of course they use their feet, too. 



THE JEALOUS LITTLE DOG. 



My name is Curly. I am a pretty, little cream-colored dog. I 

 have a long, bushy tail which curls up over my back when I am 

 happy, and drags in the dust when I am sad. 



I am usually pretty happy, for I have a sweet, little golden-haired 

 girl for my mistress. She loves me very dearly; at least, I suppose 

 she does, from the way she squeezes me, and lets me lick her 

 hands. Her name is Ivy, and she is so kind to me that I should 

 never be cross or sad if it were not for Tom. 



I just wish Tom were dead. If I were big enough I would tie 

 him up in a bag and throw him into the river. Tom is a big white 

 cat with sharp claws, and a tremendous appetite for beefsteak. He 

 eats all the meat that Ivy gives him, and then growls and spits at 

 me till I give him mine too. Half the time I am so hungry that I 

 could eat Tom, hair and all, if he would only lie still and let me; 

 but he won't. He is just the meanest cat I ever saw. 



The worst of it all is. Ivy seems to love him nearly as well as she 

 does me. She actually hugs him, and calls him her " Dear kitty; " 

 and I can't stand it. I always growl at Tom, and try to squeeze 



