"Well, as you may suppose, Tom didn't know whether he was on his head or
his heels, but he followed the cat, and off she went and squatted herself
under the edge of a little paddock at the back of Tom's house; and as he
came round the corner, she held up her paw again, and laid it on her
mouth, as much as to say, 'Be cautious, Tom.' Well, divil a word Tom could
say at all, with the fright, so up he goes to the cat, and says she--

"'Tom,' says she, 'I have a great respect for you, and there's something I
must tell you, becase you're losing character with your neighbours,' says
she, 'by your goin's on,' says she, 'and it's out o' the respect that I
have for you, that I must tell you,' says she.

"'Thank you, ma'am,' says Tom.

"'You're goin' off to the town,' says she, 'to buy shoes for the
childre',' says she, 'and never thought o' gettin' me a pair.'

"'You!' says Tom."

"'Yis, me, Tom Connor,' says she; 'and the neighbours wondhers that a
respectable man like you allows your cat to go about the counthry
barefutted,' says she."

"'Is it a cat to ware shoes?' says Tom."

"'Why not?' says she; 'doesn't horses ware shoes?--and I have a prettier
foot than a horse, I hope,' says she, with a toss of her head."

"'Faix, she spakes like a woman; so proud of her feet,' says Tom to
himself, astonished, as you may suppose, but pretending never to think it