do your share! _I_ never can. I forget injuries.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_dryly_)

You lick the hand that chastens you. Oh it's well known!

TOBY-DOG, (_gullible_)

I lick the hand that--yes, that's it exactly.--An awfully pretty
expression.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

Not mine.... Dignity doesn't trouble _you_ any! My word! I'm often
ashamed for you. You love everybody. You take all sorts of rebuffs
without even raising your back. You're as pleasant and as banal as a
public garden.

TOBY-DOG Don't you believe it, you ill-bred cat! You think you know
everything and you don't understand simple politeness. Frankly now,
would you have me snarl at His or Her friends' heels,--well-dressed
people who know my name (lots of people _I_ don't know know my name) and
good-naturedly pull my ears?

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

I hate new faces.

TOBY-DOG

I don't love them either--whatever you say. I love--Her and Him.

KIKI-THE-DEMURE

And I, Him--and Her.

TOBY-DOG

Oh, I guessed _your_ preference long ago. There's a sort of secret
understanding between you two--

KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_smiling mysteriously and abandoning himself to his
reverie_)

An understanding, yes--secret and profound. He rarely speaks but makes a
noise like a mouse, scratching his paper. It's for Him I've treasured up
my little heart, my precious cat's heart, and He, without words, has
given me his. This exchange makes me happy and reserved. Now and then
with that pretty, wayward, ruling instinct which makes us cats rivals of
women, I try my power over him. When we are alone, I point my ears
forward devilishly as a sign that I'm about to spring upon his
scratching paper. The tap, tap, tap of my paws straight through pens and
letters and everything scattered about, is addressed to him as well as
the insistent miauling when I beg for liberty. "Hymn to the Door-Knob,"
He laughingly calls it, or "The Plaint of the Sequestered Cat." The
tender contemplation of my inspiring eyes is for him alone; they weigh
on his bent head, until the look I'm calling searches and meets mine in
a shock of souls, so foreseen and so sweet, that I must needs close my
lids to hide the exquisite shyness I feel.

As for Her, she flutters about too much, often jostles me, holds my paws
together and rocks me in the air, pets me in excited fashion, laughs
aloud at me, imitates my voice too well--

TOBY-DOG, (_moved with indignation_)

You're very hard to please! I certainly love Him; he's g