The old iron-yard never had been home, she had always felt like a
stranger there; but here she had a sense of ownership, and at
once resented the presence of another small Cat. She approached
this newcomer with threatening air. The two had got as far as
snarling and spitting when a bucket of water from an upper window
drenched them both and effectually cooled their wrath. They fled,
the newcomer over the wall, Slum Kitty under the very box where
she had been born. This whole back region appealed to her
strongly, and here again she took up her abode. The yard had no
more garbage food than the other and no water at all, but it was
frequented by stray Rats and a few Mice of the finest quality;
these were occasionally secured, and afforded not only a
palatable meal, but were the cause of her winning a friend.


IV

Kitty was now fully grown. She was a striking-looking Cat of the
tiger type. Her marks were black on a very pale gray, and the
four beauty-spots of white on nose, ears, and tail-tip lent a
certain distinction. She was very expert at getting a living, and
yet she had some days of starvation and failed in her ambition of
catching a Sparrow. She was quite alone, but a new force was
coming into her life.

She was lying in the sun one August day, when a large Black Cat
came walking along the top of a wall in her direction. She
recognized him at once by his torn ear. She slunk into her box
and hid. He picked his way gingerly, bounded lightly to a shed
that was at the end of the yard, and was crossing the roof when a