THE HOME PUSSIES 257 



the century, and has been reproduced and now again 

 finds favour. 



June 18. It is a perfect summer day, and I sit 

 looking down one of the broad turf rides in the copse 

 and see a dark object slowly approaching. By the 

 solemnity of the stately advance I know it must be 

 Pinkieboy. His movements are more than usually 

 deliberate, for he had a rabbit this morning. He 

 brought it, half-eaten, to show me. Tabby was fol- 

 lowing at a respectful distance, occasionally licking 

 his lips as if asking for a share, but Pinkie only 

 looked round and gave a short growl, which evidently 

 meant, " Better go and catch a rabbit for yourself." 



He is capable of extraordinary activity, and yet 

 often assumes an affectation of pretending that he 

 cannot go fast. For when we walk leisurely through 

 the garden or copse together, he following a yard 

 or two behind, when a bush or a turn of the path 

 hides me from view, he will utter the most lament- 

 able cries, as if begging not to be left behind ; then, 

 when he has pretended enough, he will be up with 

 me in one bound, purring and rubbing and asking 

 if that wasn't a real good joke ? 



When we meet after an unusual separation of 

 a few hours, as he sees me coming he prepares 

 himself for a good five minutes of pleasant con- 

 versation. Its subject is always the same, namely, 

 unqualified admiration and approval of Pinkieboy. 

 About a yard away he slowly lies down and solemnly 



