rattlings; a new and horrible sound was added--the barking of
Dogs, big and little and dreadfully close. The basket was lifted,
and Slum Kitty had reached her country home.

Every one was officiously kind. They wanted to please the Royal
Cat, but somehow none of them did, except, possibly, the big, fat
cook that Kitty discovered on wandering into the kitchen. This
unctuous person smelt more like a slum than anything she had met
for months, and the Royal Analostan was proportionately
attracted. The cook, when she learned that fears were entertained
about the Cat staying, said: "Shure, she'd 'tind to thot; wanst a
Cat licks her futs, shure she's at home." So she deftly caught
the unapproachable royalty in her apron, and committed the
horrible sacrilege of greasing the soles of her feet with
pot-grease. Of course Kitty resented it--she resented everything
in the place; but on being set down she began to dress her paws
and found evident satisfaction in that grease. She licked all
four feet for an hour, and the cook triumphantly announced that
now "shure she'd be apt to shtay." And stay she did, but she
showed a most surprising and disgusting preference for the
kitchen, the cook, and the garbage-pail.

The family, though distressed by these distinguished
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