When found, she was only a shadow of herself, and for the first and only
time in her life we could count her ribs. She was wild with delight, and
clung to my sister's arms as though fearing to lose her; and in all the
fuss that was made over her return, no human being could have showed
more affection, or more satisfaction at finding her old friends again.

That she really was lost, and had no sense of locality to guide her
home, was proven by her conduct after she returned to her Boston home. I
had preceded my sister, and was at the theatre on the evening when she
arrived with the Pretty Lady. The latter was carried into the kitchen,
taken from her basket, and fed. Then, instead of going around the house
and settling herself in her old home, she went into the front hall which
she had left four months before, and seated herself on the spot where
she always watched and waited when I was out. When I came home at
eleven, I saw through the screen door her "that was lost and is found."
She had been waiting to welcome me for three mortal hours.

I wish those people who believe cats have no affection for people could
have seen her then. She would not leave me for an instant, and
manifested her love in every possible way; and when I retired for the
night, she curled up on my pillow and purred herself contentedly to
sleep, only rising when I did. After breakfast that first morning after
her return, she asked to be let out of the back door, and made me
understand that I must go with her. I did so, and she explored every
part of the back yard, entreating me in the same way she called her
kittens to keep close by her. She investigated our own premises
thoroughly and then crept carefully under the fences on either side into
the neighbor's precincts where she had formerly visited in friendly
fashion; then she came timidly back, all the time keeping watch that she
did not lose me. Having finished her tour of inspection, she went in and