emorable night, on which occasion she lost two
inches of her beautiful tail, and received so terrible a fright
that for fully an hour afterward her little heart beat so
violently as to lift her off her feet and bump her head against
the top of our domestic hole. The cat that deprived my sister of
so large a percentage of her vertebral colophon was the same
brindled ogress that nowadays steals ever and anon into this
room, crouches treacherously behind the sofa, and feigns to be
asleep, hoping, forsooth, that some of us, heedless of her hated
presence, will venture within reach of her diabolical claws. So
enraged was this ferocious monster at the escape of my sister
that she ground her fangs viciously together, and vowed to take
no pleasure in life until she held in her devouring jaws the
innocent little mouse which belonged to the mangled bit of tail
she even then clutched in her remorseless claws."

"Yes," said the old clock, "now that you recall the incident,
I recollect it well. I was here then, in this very corner, and
I remember that I laughed at the cat and chided her for her
awkwardness. My reproaches irritated her; she told me that a
clock's duty was to run itself down, _not_ to be depreciating
the merits of others! Yes, I recall the time; that cat's tongue
is fully as sharp as her claws."

"Be that as it may," said the little mauve mouse, "it is a
matter of history, and therefore beyond dispute, that from that
very moment the cat pined for Squeaknibble's life; it seemed as
if that one little two-inch taste of Squeaknibble's tail had
filled the cat with a consuming passion, or appetite, for the
rest of Squeaknibble. So the cat waited and watched and hunted
and schemed and devised and did everything possible for a cat--a
cruel cat--to do in order to gain her murderous ends. One
night--one fatal Christmas eve--our mother had undressed the
children for bed, and was urging upon them to go to sleep
earlier than usual, since she fully expected that Santa Claus
would bring each of them something very palatable and nice
before morning. Thereupon the little dears whisked their cunning
tails, pricked up their beautiful ears, and began telling one
another what they hoped Santa Claus would bring. One asked for a
slice of Roquefort, another for Neufchatel, another for Sap
Sago, and a fourth for Edam; one expressed a preference for de
Brie, while another hoped to get Parmesan; one clamored for
imperial blue Stilton, and