“And when one morning she brought a mouse and laid it on the door-step, and looking up, seemed to say:  ’Kind lady, if you will take me for your cat, see what I will do for you,’ my friend could no longer refuse.  The door was opened, the long-wished-for invitation was given, and very soon the little barn-cat became the pet and plaything of the family.  She proved a valuable family cat, and her descendants, to the fourth generation, are living in my friend’s family to-day.

“Out of these materials I have dressed up the story of

HOW FURRY-PURRY BECAME GOLD ELSIE.

“The door of the great house stood open and Furry-Purry looked in.

“Furry-Purry was a small yellow cat striped down the back with a darker shade of the same color.  Her paws, the lower part of her body, and the spot on her breast were white.

“This is what the little cat saw, looking through the open door into the great house:—­

“A pleasant room hung with pictures, the floor covered with a soft carpet, where all kinds of bright-colored flowers seemed to be growing, and, in the sunniest corner, lying in an arm-chair piled with cushions, a large tabby cat.

“Just then a gust of wind closed the door, and Furry-Purry ran round the house to the barn and remained all day hidden in her hole under the boards.

“That night there was a storm, and several cats in the neighborhood crept into the barn for safety.  There was old Mrs. Barebones, a cat with a bad cough, which was thought to be in a decline; Tom Skip-an’-jump, a sprightly young fellow with a tenor voice which he was fond of using on moonlight nights; and Robber Grim, a fierce, one-eyed creature—­the pest of the neighborhood—­with a great head and neck and flabby, hanging cheeks and bare spots on his tawny coat where the fur had been torn out in his fierce battles.

“The thunder roared overhead and the lightning, shining through the cracks, played on the barn floor and showed the cats sitting gravely in a circle.  Only Tom Skip-an’-jump, who still kept his kittenish tricks, went frisking after his tail and turning somersaults in the hay.  Presently he tumbled over Furry-Purry and bit her ear.

“‘Come, play!’ said he:  ‘it’s a jolly time for puss-in-the-corner.’

“‘Tom,’ said Furry-Purry, ’I never shall play again.  I am very unhappy.  I have seen Mrs. Tabitha Velvetpaw lying on a silk cushion, while I make my bed in the hay.  She walks on a lovely soft carpet, and I have only this barn floor.  O Tom, I want to be a house-cat.’

“‘A house-cat!’ repeated Tom disdainfully.  ’They sleep all day.  They get their tails pulled and their ears pinched by horrid monsters with only two legs to walk on, and nights—­beautiful moonlight nights when we barn-cats are roaming the alleys and singing on the roofs and having a good time generally—­they are locked in cellars and garrets and made to watch rat-holes.  Oh, no! not for Tom.’