RATIONS.

As I said to John, I can bear anger and sarcasm--but contempt, not. Binny
and Joe are our cats, and the most pampered of pets. Every day, when our
meals were served, there was spread upon the carpet a newspaper, on which
Binny and Joe would trample, clamouring, until a plate containing their
substantial portion was laid down: after which we were free to proceed with
our own meal.

Then came the paralysing shock of Lord DEVONPORT'S ration announcement, in
which no mention is made of cats. Binny and Joe looked at one another in
consternation over their porridge as I read aloud his statement from the
newspaper at breakfast.

When I came in to luncheon I had a letter in my hand and accidentally
dropped the envelope. Paper of any kind upon the carpet is associated in
Binny's mind with the advent of food. Straightway he thudded from his
arm-chair and sat down upon the envelope. You will notice that I speak
above of Binny and Joe. I do so instinctively, because, though Binny is
only half Joe's age of one year, somehow he always occurs everywhere before
Joe. Joe was lying on the same arm-chair, and the same idea struck him too;
but Binny got there first and continued sitting on the envelope, until, for
very shame, I asked Ann, the maid, to spread a newspaper and try them with
potato and gravy. They looked at it and then at me, and then, without
tasting, walked off and began their usual after-luncheon ablutions of
mouth, face and paws. But, as I have said, I can endure sarcasm.

The next day, just before luncheon, a mass of sparrow feathers was found on
the hall-mat. The second day there were feathers of a blackbird. And the