till he woke up and came indoors. As to the gravel path by the thrushes'
nest, Smut never came into that path again all the summer through.
Smut's a deal too particular," added the gardener; "but I have heard of
another cat that was almost as bad. The house-maid told me that in one
of her places there was a fine tabby cat, or rather a good-sized kitten,
which would never eat anything in the kitchen, and was so particular in
his ways that he was called 'Sir Thomas.' At dinner time he had a trick
of jumping up as quick as lightning just when any one was going to put
his food into his mouth with his fork. He would give the fork a knock
with his paw, so that the meat tumbled off; which he ate before one
could see what had happened! Such behaviour was not to be borne; so Sir
Thomas was always turned out of the room at dinner time. He was a good
mouser, and foraged well for himself out of doors. One day he ate some
poisoned meat, at least it was supposed he did so. He became so thin,
and his fur came off; so he had to be killed, and that was the end of
Sir Thomas."

"I hope poor Smut won't come to any harm," said Jack. "I should have
liked to see the birds chasing him, though. I wonder the thrush wasn't
afraid of getting on to a cat's back."

"Why, the bird was safe enough; Smut couldn't reach it, and he was
almost frightened out of his senses. You know animals, when they have
their young to take care of or their lives to defend, can do things
which seem contrary to their nature. Birds don't make their perches on
cats' backs, except for very good reasons.

"I heard of a dreadful thing that happened once," said the gardener,
lowering his tone. "There was a cat--it was a half-wild one--and some
boys had a dog that was very fond of worrying cats. They set this dog on