I rose from my chair hurriedly and remarking "----," approached him at
a rapid rate. He preceded me in the direction of the door. At the
door he met Eliza coming in with eggs. Eliza observed "Ugh!" and sat
down on the floor, the eggs took up different positions about the
carpet, where they spread themselves out, and Gustavus Adolphus left
the room. I called after him, strongly advising him to go straight
downstairs and not let me see him again for the next hour or so; and
he seeming to agree with me, dodged the coal-scoop and went, while I
returned, dried myself and finished breakfast. I made sure that he
had gone in to the yard, but when I looked into the passage ten
minutes later he was sitting at the top of the stairs. I ordered him
down at once, but he only barked and jumped about, so I went to see
what was the matter.

It was Tittums. She was sitting on the top stair but one and wouldn't
let him pass.

Tittums is our kitten. She is about the size of a penny roll. Her
back was up and she was swearing like a medical student.

She does swear fearfully. I do a little that way myself sometimes,
but I am a mere amateur compared with her. To tell you the
truth--mind, this is strictly between ourselves, please; I shouldn't
like your wife to know I said it--the women folk don't understand
these things; but between you and me, you know, I think it does a man
good to swear. Swearing is the safety-valve through which the bad
temper that might otherwise do serious internal injury to his mental
mechanism escapes in harmless vaporing. When a man has said: "Bless
you, my dear, sweet sir. What the sun, moon, and stars made you so