It is evident he wishes to convey the idea that he
has been out all night on work connected with the Vigilance Association,
and is now returning home sick at heart because of the sights that he has
seen.
"He squirms in, unnoticed, through a window, and has just time to give
himself a hurried lick down before he hears the cook's step on the
stairs. When she enters the kitchen he is curled up on the hearthrug,
fast asleep. The opening of the shutters awakes him. He rises and comes
forward, yawning and stretching himself.
"'Dear me, is it morning, then?' he says drowsily. 'Heigh-ho! I've had
such a lovely sleep, cook; and such a beautiful dream about poor mother.'
"Cats! do you call them? Why, they are Christians in everything except
the number of legs."
"They certainly are," I responded, "wonderfully cunning little animals,
and it is not by their moral and religious instincts alone that they are
so closely linked to man; the marvellous ability they display in taking
care of 'number one' is worthy of the human race itself. Some friends of
mine had a cat, a big black Tom: they have got half of him still. They
had reared him from a kitten, and, in their homely, undemonstrative way,
they liked him. There was nothing, however, approaching passion on
either side.
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