Mistress Kitty accepted Mrs. Hopkins’s hospitable offer, and presently began orienting herself, and getting ready to make herself agreeable.  The kindhearted Mrs. Hopkins had gathered about her several other pensioners besides the twins.  These two little people, it may be here mentioned, were just taking a morning airing in charge of Susan Posey, who strolled along in company with Gifted Hopkins on his way to the store.

Mistress Kitty soon began the conversational blandishments so natural to her good-humored race.  “It’s a little blarney that’ll jist suit th’ old lady,” she said to herself, as she made her first conciliatory advance.

“An’ sure an’ it’s a beautiful kitten you’ve got there, Mrs. Hopkins.  An’ it’s a splendid mouser she is, I’ll be bound.  Does n’t she look as if she’d clans the house out o’them little bastes, bad luck to em.”

Mrs. Hopkins looked benignantly upon the more than middle-aged tabby, slumbering as if she had never known an enemy, and turned smiling to Mistress Kitty.  “Why, bless your heart, Kitty, our old puss would n’t know a mouse by sight, if you showed her one.  If I was a mouse, I’d as lieves have a nest in one of that old cat’s ears as anywhere else.  You couldn’t find a safer place for one.”

“Indade, an’ to be sure she’s too big an’ too handsome a pussy to be after wastin’ her time on them little bastes.  It’s that little tarrier dog of yours, Mrs. Hopkins, that will be after worryin’ the mice an’ the rats, an’ the thaves too, I ‘ll warrant.  Is n’t he a fust-rate-lookin’ watch-dog, an’ a rig’ler rat-hound?”

Mrs. Hopkins looked at the little short-legged and short-winded animal of miscellaneous extraction with an expression of contempt and affection, mingled about half and half.  “Worry ’em!  If they wanted to sleep, I rather guess he would worry ’em!  If barkin’ would do their job for ’em, nary a mouse nor rat would board free gratis in my house as they do now.  Noisy little good-for-nothing tike,—­ain’t you, Fret?”

Mistress Kitty was put back a little by two such signal failures.  There was another chance, however, to make her point, which she presently availed herself of,—­feeling pretty sure this time that she should effect a lodgement.  Mrs. Hopkins’s parrot had been observing Kitty, first with one eye and then with the other, evidently preparing to make a remark, but awkward with a stranger.  “That ’s a beautiful part y ’ve got there,” Kitty said, buoyant with the certainty that she was on safe ground this time; “and tahks like a book, I ’ll be bound.  Poll!  Poll!  Poor Poll!”

She put forth her hand to caress the intelligent and affable bird, which, instead of responding as expected, “squawked,” as our phonetic language has it, and, opening a beak imitated from a tooth-drawing instrument of the good old days, made a shrewd nip at Kitty’s forefinger.  She drew it back with a jerk.

“An’ is that the way your part tahks, Mrs. Hopkins?”