ith him, and talked to it and kissed
it, and went to sleep with its smooth shiny shoulder against his cheek.

In the days that followed, he was extravagantly good. Being good seemed
as easy as being bad usually was. This may have been because mother
seemed so tired and ill; and gentlemen in black coats and high hats came
to see mother, and after they had gone she used to cry. (These things
going on in a house sometimes make people good; sometimes they act just
the other way.) Or it may have been because he had the China Cat to talk
to. Anyhow, whichever way it was, at the end of the week mother said:

'Tavy, you've been a dear good boy, and a great comfort to me. You must
have tried very hard to be good.'

It was difficult to say, 'No, I haven't, at least not since the first
day,' but Tavy got it said, and was hugged for his pains.

'You wanted,' said mother, 'the China Cat. Well, you may have it.'

'For my very own?'

'For your very own. But you must be very careful not to break it. And
you mustn't give it away. It goes with the house. Your Aunt Jane made me
promise to keep it in the family. It's very, very old. Don't take it out
of doors for fear of accidents.'

'I love the White Cat, mother,' said Tavy. 'I love it better'n all my
toys.'

Then mother told Tavy several things, and that night when he went to bed
Tavy repeated them all faithfully to the China Cat, who was about six
inches high and looked very intelligent.

'So you see,' he ended, 'the wicked lawyer's taken nearly all mother's
money, and we've got to leave our own lovely big White House, and go and
live in a horrid little house with another house glued on to its side.
And mother does hate it so.'

'I don't wonder,' said the China Cat very distinctly.

'_What!_' said Tavy, half-way into his night-shirt.

'I said, I don't wonder, Octavius,' said the China Cat, and rose from
her sitting position, stretched her china legs and waved her white china
tail.

'You can speak?' said Tavy.

'Can't you see I can?--hear I mean?' said the Cat. 'I belong to you now,
so I can speak to you. I couldn't before. It wouldn't have been
manners.'

Tavy, his night-shirt round his neck, sat down on the edge of the bed
with his mouth open.

'Come, don't look so silly,' said the Cat, taking a walk along the high
wooden mantelpiece, 'any one would think you didn't _like_ me to talk to
you.'

'I _love_ you to,' said Tavy recovering himself a little.

'Well then