There is no delusion so strong when it besets you, or so complete a failure in its results—­as the hope of getting relief from an infatuation by indulging it once more.  It grows worse every time.

One day I was stealing away as usual, when I caught my master’s eye with a peculiar expression in it.  He was gnawing his moustaches too.  I am very fond of him, and I ran back to the chair and looked up and mewed, for I wanted to know what was the matter.

“You’re a curious cat, Toots,” said he; “but I suppose you’re only like the rest of the world.  I did think you did care a little bit for me.  It’s only the cream, is it, old fellow?  As a companion, you prefer Terence?  Eh?  Well, off with you!”

But I need hardly say that I would not leave him.  It was no want of love for him that led me to the saddle-room.  I was not base enough to forget that he had been my friend in need, even if he had been less amiable to me since.  All that evening I lay on his breast and slept. But I dreamt of the mouse!

The next morning he went out riding.

“He will not miss me now,” thought I.  “I will devote the morning to hunting through that wretched room inch by inch, for the last time.  It will satisfy me that the mouse is not there, and it really is a duty to try and convince myself of this, that I may be cured of an infatuation which causes annoyance to so excellent a master.”

I hurried off as rapidly as befitted the vigour of the resolution, and when I got into the saddle-room I saw the mouse.  And when the mouse saw me he fled like the wind.

I confess that I should have lost him then, but that a hole on which he had reckoned was stopped up, and he had to turn.

What a chase it was!  Never did I meet his equal for audacity and fleetness.  But I knew the holes as well as he did, and cut him off at every one.  Round and round we went—­behind the barrel, over the corn-chest, and then he made for the middle of the room.

Now, amongst all the rubbish which Terence had collected about him, there were many old articles of clothing belonging to the Captain, including a pair of long riding-boots, which had been gathering mildew, and stiffening out of shape in their present position ever since I came.  One of these was lying on the floor; and just as I was all but upon the mouse, he darted into the boot.

A quiver of delight ran through me.  With all his unwonted sagacity, Master Mouse had run straight into a trap.  The boot was wide, and head and shoulders I plunged in after my prey.

I scented him all the way down the leg, but the painful fact is that I could not quite get to the bottom.  He must have crouched in the toe or heel, and I could get no farther than the calf.  Oh, if my master’s legs had but been two inches shorter!  I should have clawed into the remotest corner of the foot.  As it was, I pushed, I struggled, I shook, I worried the wretched boot—­but all in vain.