Omar Ben regarded the interloper with the same glance of refined surprise
that the master might have employed when a fleeced plebeian entered his
office, demanding to know why the market had slumped in direct
contradiction to confidential prophecy. He elevated his patrician brows,
but gave the desired information politely:

"My ribbon-name is Omar Ben Sufi, first-born of the second litter of Yiki
Zootra and Sultana Yaggi Kiz. Here at home, however, I am known by a
variety of others, such as _Mon Prince de Maniere Charmante_,
Sugar-pie-precious, and--"

"Aw, cut it!" snapped the street cat disgustedly. "Dem ain't no decent
names! D'ey's positive ridick'lous! _Mine's_ Ringtail Pete, but me
frien's has reasons fer fergittin' de tail part of it when dey names me
to me face--see?"

He smiled his twisted smile, raised one paw, and regarded its claws with
a sort of humorous pride.

The Persian cat said nothing. Ringtail Pete was obviously an undesirable
acquaintance; therefore Omar Ben held his tongue, and became interested
in the bullfrog. Curiosity, however, conquered refined reserve.

"What is it?" he asked presently.

"Frawg," said the street cat, with laconic candor, as he gracefully
mauled the subject of discussion. "I gets 'em over to the frawg-pawnd up
back of Lumkins's tannery. Have a piece?"

"Thank you, no," returned the Persian, with a faint smile of his own.