When we were in the field we saw a great dog coming and we ran to a tree and scampered up. I stopped to spit at the dog and was the last one up. The sky grew blacker, the wind blew harder and harder. The dog lay down on the ground and howled. Not one of us durst come down. The rain came hard upon us. The tree branches whirled round and round. It was a great wind. It was a whirlwind. It blew off all the leaves that had been left on and then it blew us off. For it was a great wind. Yes, a whirlwind. A dreadful whirlwind. I hope, dear Lady Yellow-paw, that neither you nor any one at this famous party will ever know the feeling of being blown off a tree in a whirlwind. I hope you nor any one at this famous party will know the feeling of being in a tree in a whirlwind with claws that have been pared down at the points. None of our bones were broken. How thankful we all ought to be that we are cats and not children, for we have cushions on our feet, so that we can be blown down without having any bones broken.
None of our bones were broken but we were drenched with the wet rain. We were almost dead with the fright and the wet rain and we crawled all the way home.
Our mistress was looking for us. She said, ‘Oh you naughties, come in quick!’ We crawled in and she wiped us with a dry cloth and laid us in a row in front of the stove, and gave us a warm supper and then some catnip.
After this she kept me in the house. Said she, ‘Black Velvet, you put mischief into the others’ heads and I will keep you in. Black Satin, Black Floss, White Velvet, White Floss and White Satin you may go. Black Velvet shall stay with me.’
It was hard to see Black Floss, Black Satin, White Velvet, White Floss and White Satin skipping in the yard, over fences, up and down clothes-poles, and be myself shut up indoors. But how little we know what is best for us! One day those others did of themselves go to a corn-house, and there they tasted bad meat which had been put there to kill rats, and they all died! Every one, Black Floss, Black Satin, White Velvet, White Floss, White Satin, every one died. Oh how my mistress did cry! And I too. Yes, I was sad and lonely. I went crying round from room to room, calling for my lost playmates. I looked in all their baskets.
My mistress seemed to love me more than ever. ‘I have only you, now, Black Velvet,’ she would say. Then she would hug me and hug me. She let me do what I pleased. I had thick cream. When she was sewing I jumped on her shoulder and played in her hair, and I went to sleep in her hat, if I wanted to, and in her work-basket. When she went out to walk she used to take me with her and wrap me up in her apron, and talk to me. But when I grew to be a cat she made me a blanket of my own. It was a good one. It was my own blanket. She loved 

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