unrelieved domesticity? I must begin at the very beginning lest some
necessary point be lost, and the beginning is porridge! A small portion
was invariably left for Baal Burra. On the morning of this strange
history a miniature lagoon, irregular in shape, of porridge and milk had
settled in the very centre of the dry desert of plate. In response to
customary summons to breakfast, Baal Burra skipped along the veranda. It
was a daily incident, and no one took particular notice until unusual
exclamations on the part of the bird denoted something extraordinary. By
circumnavigating the plate and at the same time stretching its neck to
the utmost it had contrived to convert the shapeless lagoon into a
perfectly symmetrical pond just out of the reach of the stubby tongue.
Hence the scolding. Three witnesses--each ardently on the side of the
bird--watched intently. Decently mannered, it refused to clamber on to the
edge of the plate, for it was ever averse from defilement of food. The
tit-bit was just beyond avaricious exertions--just at that tantalising
distance and just so irresistibly desirable as might be directly
stimulative of original enterprise towards acquirement.

The chatter and abuse continued for a couple of minutes. Then the bird
stood still while seeming to reflect, with wise head askew after the
manner of other thinkers. Hurrying, to its playthings--which happened to
be at the far end of the veranda--it selected a matchbox, dragged it
clatteringly along, ranged it precisely close to the plate, mounted it,
and from the extra elevation sipped the last drop with a chuckle of
content. That the bird on deliberation conceived the scheme for
over-reaching the coveted food I have not the slightest doubt.

Baal Burra bestowed frank friendship on a fat, good-humoured, yellow cat,
fond of luxury and ease during the day, a "rake-helly" prowler at
night. Into Sultan's fur Baal Burra would burrow, not without occasional