keep myself from thinking about it I employ myself in teaching the way of opening doors. Every cat should know how to open doors. There may be times in a cat’s life when she may save her life by knowing how to open a door. There are times in every cat’s life when she may get food by opening a door.

“Here a number of cats sprang to their feet and began to tell of particular times when they had saved themselves and got food by knowing how to open doors. Among them was the cat that hadn’t common sense. ‘One at a time, my dears,’ said Lady Yellow-paw. ‘Snowball, will you begin?’

“But I humbly beg your Majesty’s pardon,” said the lovely Pussyanita to the King. “The particular times when all these saved themselves or got food by knowing how to open doors were not in Black Velvet’s story. You asked, oh King, for Black Velvet’s story. That is ended, I am silent.”

“You shall not be silent!” thundered King Grimalkum. “Speak! As king of all the cats, I wish particularly to know the particular times when all those saved themselves and got food by knowing how to open doors. As king of all the cats, I should be well informed on all such matters.”

“To tell you what you ask,” answered the lovely Pussyanita, “would take a longer time than I have to live.”

“Time shall be granted you,” said the king. “Begin without delay to tell what Snowball told.”

“When my sister Lily and myself were quite young, but not very, the people who lived in the house began to talk of drowning us. Now all present at this famous party will agree with me that if we are to be drowned at all we should be drowned when we are too young to know anything about it. I suppose there is not one here present who would not rather have been drowned when she knew nothing about it, than to be drowned now.“When our mother heard drowning spoken of she took us under the barn, and there we stayed a long time. We lived under the barn. Our mother would not let us come out. She used to sit on a high wall and we wanted to, but she said dogs would get us and boys would scare us. A small boy used to come out there with his books and his slates and his other things, and this small boy crawled under the barn and found us and dragged us out, and then our mother moved back to the house to live. On the very day we moved back, I was put into a covered basket and sent away in a rattling thing called a carriage. The noise it made frightened me almost to death. I scratched the basket and clawed the cover, and stuck my paws through, and mewed and 

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