house-cat, and used to help her, in a ponderous way, with the care
of her numerous family. Many a time have I seen him placidly extended
before a fire, while puss used his shaggy body as a sleeping box, and
once he was observed to help that anxious tabby-mother with the toilet
of her kittens by licking them carefully all over. At every lick of
_Rufus's_ huge prehensile tongue a kitten was lifted bodily into the
air, only, however, to descend washed and unharmed to the ground. But
out of doors, in the society of _Flick, Rufus's_ whole nature seemed
to change. He became a demon-exterminator of cats. Led on by his
yelping little friend, he chased them fiercely to their last retreats,
and, if he caught them, masticated them without mercy. Once too, on
a morning that had been appointed for a big covert-shoot, I noticed
this strangely assorted pair come into the breakfast-room panting and
dirty. They were not usually afoot before breakfast. What could their
condition mean? A flustered keeper arrived shortly afterwards and
explained everything. "Them two dogs o' yourn, Sir," he said, "the big
'un and the little 'un, 'ave run all the coverts through. There's not
a pheasant left in 'em. They're sailin' all over the country."

[Illustration]

The truth was that _Flick_ had organised the expedition with
extraordinary secrecy and cunning. He had persuaded _Rufus_ to join
him, and the result was that we shot forty pheasants instead of the
three hundred on which we had counted.

Now, my dear PLAU, I merely record this little story, and leave you
to apply it. But I may remind you of incidents that touch you more
nearly. Do you remember GORTON? Many years ago GORTON went to Oxford
with a brilliant reputation. Every triumph that the University could