“Let’s have a look,” said a voice I hated, [Pg 42]and Tibbie walked up Bobby’s neck, and perched between his ears.

[Pg 42]

“Hello!” cried I, in my most sarcastic snarl, “are you there? And what is this acrobatic business? Is it a circus, or what?”

“Speak when you’re spoken to,” spat Tibbie. “And let me give you fair warning that the next time you sneak any meat off my skewer I’ll—”

“Oh, shut up, both of you,” commanded Minkie; so I just pretended to lick my lips, though I really care very little for the rather high stuff that cats make such a song about. I like mine underdone.

“Have you ever before heard of a ju-ju, Bob?” went on Minkie.

“No,” said Bob. He didn’t shake his head, because Tibbie was there, and she has a nasty habit of hanging on with her claws before you can say “Rats!” Why do cats have such sharp nails, anyhow? They used to scar my muzzle something awful before I learnt to jump on them feet first. But they can’t bite for nuts. If they could, I must admit—

“I think I might tell you something about [Pg 43]it,” broke in Tibbie, backing down Bob’s mane and settling on his withers again.

[Pg 43]

“Well, go on,” said Minkie, bending a bit, so as to watch Tibbie’s green eyes.

“It’s a long time ago since I had the story from a blue Persian.”

“Cookie has some liver in the larder.” You see, Minkie knew her cat.

“Has she? I was out when the butcher came.”

“Yes. It’s liver and bacon for breakfast in the morning. And SOLES!”

SOLES

P-r-r-r, you could feel Tibbie’s fur rising.

“I’ll try to remember,” she said in a rather thick voice. “It seems that we cats used to be worshipped by the ancient Egyptians. The cat deity was named Elurus, and we were also venerated as a symbol of the moon—”

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