pet Canary were condoned for the
reason that in her native Orient she had been used to despotic example.
The patrician way in which she would get the cover off a milk-can was
especially applauded. Her dislike of her silk-lined basket, and her
frequent dashes against the plate-glass windows, were easily
understood: the basket was too plain, and plate-glass was not used in
her royal home. Her spotting of the carpet evidenced her Eastern modes
of thought. The failure of her several attempts to catch Sparrows in
the high-walled back yard was new proof of the royal impotency of her
bringing up; while her frequent wallowings in the garbage-can were
understood to be the manifestation of a little pardonable high-born
eccentricity. She was fed and pampered, shown and praised; but she was
not happy. Kitty was homesick! She clawed at that blue ribbon round her
neck till she got it off; she jumped against the plate-glass because
that seemed the road to outside; she avoided people and Dogs because
they had always proved hostile and cruel; and she would sit and gaze on
the roofs and back yards at the other side of the window, wishing she
could be among them for a change.

But she was strictly watched, was never allowed outside--so that all
the happy garbage-can moments occurred while these receptacles of joy
were indoors. One night in March, however, as they were set out a-row
for the early scavenger, the Royal Analostan saw her chance, slipped
out of the door, and was lost to view.

Of course there was a grand stir; but Pussy neither knew nor cared
anything about that--her one thought was to go home. It may have been
chance that took her back in the direction of Gramercy Grange Hill, but
she did arrive there after sundry small adventures. And now what? She
was not at home, and she had cut off her living. She was beginning to
be hungry, and yet she had a peculiar sense of happiness. She cowered
in a front garden for some time. A raw east wind had been rising, and
now it came to her with a particularly friendly message; man would have
called it an unpleasant smell of the docks, but to Pussy it was welcome
tidings from home. She trotted down the long Street due east, threading
the rails of front gardens, stopping like a statue for an instant, or
crossing the street in search of the darkest side, and came at length
to the docks and to the water. But the place was strange. She could go
north or south. Something turned her southward; and