"Toots," I would say, "you banished
him from your master's room, and you have probably banished him from
Terence's. Why pursue the matter farther? So pitiful an object is
unworthy of your revenge."
"Very true," I would reply to myself, "but I want a turn in the air.
I'll just step down as far as the saddle-room once more, and make myself
finally comfortable by looking behind the old barrel. I don't think I
went quite round it."
There is no delusion so strong when it besets you, or so complete a
failure in its results--as the hope of getting relief from an
infatuation by indulging it once more. It grows worse every time.
One day I was stealing away as usual, when I caught my master's eye with
a peculiar expression in it. He was gnawing his moustaches too. I am
very fond of him, and I ran back to the chair and looked up and mewed,
for I wanted to know what was the matter.
"You're a curious cat, Toots," said he; "but I suppose you're only like
the rest of the world. I did think you did care a little bit for me.
It's only the cream, is it, old fellow? As a companion, you prefer
Terence? Eh? Well, off with you!"
But I need hardly say that I would not leave him. It was no want of love
for him that led me to the saddle-room.
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