But it was my young mistress who told me (with regrets and caresses, which in the circumstances were mere mockery) that I was to be left behind.

I have a particularly placid temper, and can adapt myself pretty comfortably to the ups and downs of life; but this news made my tail stand on end.

“Poor dear Toots!” said my mistress, kissing my nose, and tickling me gently under the ear, as if she were saying the prettiest things possible.  “I am so sorry!  I don’t know what we are to do with you!  But we are going abroad, and we can’t take you, you dear old thing!  We’ve such heaps of luggage, and such lots of servants, and no end of things that must go!  But I can’t bear to think of you left behind!”

“No,” said I indignantly; “that’s just it, and the people at number ten, and number fourteen, and number twenty-five, couldn’t bear to think what would become of their cats, so they went away and didn’t think about it.  They couldn’t bear to see them die, so they didn’t give them a dose of quick poison, but left them to die of starvation, when they weren’t there to see.  You’re a heartless, selfish race, you human beings, and I suspect that Mrs. Tabby is not the only shabby-looking, true-hearted soul, who has to pester people for subscriptions to patch up the dreary end of existence for deserted pets, when caressing days are over.  Fuff!”

And I jumped straight out of her arms, and whisked through the dining-room window.  For some time I strolled thoughtfully along the top of the area railings.  I rather hoped I might see Mrs. Tabby.  I wondered how her subscription list was getting on.  I felt all the difference between a lady’s interest in a Reduced Gentlewomen’s Benevolent Institution or a Poor Annuitants’ Home, when she is well and wealthy, and the same lady’s interest when some turn of Misfortune’s wheel has left her “dependent on her own exertions.”  It seemed that I was to be left dependent on my own exertions—­and my thoughts turned naturally to Mrs. Tabby and the Deserted Cats’ Fund.

But not a sign of the good creature!  At this moment a hansom cab rattled up, and a gentleman got out and rang our front-door bell.  As he got out of the cab, I jumped down from the railings, and rubbed against his legs—­he had very long legs.

“Halloa, Toots! is that you?” said he in a kindly voice, which had always had attractions for me, and which in my present mood was particularly grateful.  His hat was set well on the back of his head, and I could clearly see the friendly expression of his countenance.  Suddenly he tilted it over his nose, which I have observed that he is apt to do when struck by a new idea.  “Toots!” said he abruptly, “what are they going to do with you?”

Blessings on this kind of friend! say I; the friend who will encumber himself with the responsibility of thinking what’s to become of you, when you are down in the world.  Those tender-hearted souls who can’t bear to think of your misfortunes are a much more numerous part of one’s acquaintance.