hat echoed through the house. He leaped from the bed and tore
through the door and down the stairs, and behind him came the most
terrible thing in the world. People might call it a sardine-tin, but he
knew better. It was the soul of all the fear that ever had been or ever
could be. _It rattled._

Maurice who was a cat flew down the stairs; down, down--the rattling
horror followed. Oh, horrible! Down, down! At the foot of the stairs the
horror, caught by something--a banister--a stair-rod--stopped. The
string on Maurice's tail tightened, his tail was jerked, he was stopped.
But the noise had stopped too. Maurice lay only just alive at the foot
of the stairs.

It was Mabel who untied the string and soothed his terrors with
strokings and tender love-words. Maurice was surprised to find what a
nice little girl his sister really was.

'I'll never tease you again,' he tried to say, softly--but that was not
what he said. What he said was 'Purrrr.'

[Illustration: It was Mabel who untied the string and soothed his
terrors.]

'Dear pussy, nice poor pussy, then,' said Mabel, and she hid away the
sardine-tin and did not tell any one. This seemed unjust to Maurice
until he remembered that, of course, Mabel thought that he was really
Lord Hugh, and that the person who had tied the tin to his tail was her
brother Maurice. Then he was half grateful. She carried him down, in
soft, safe arms, to the kitchen, and asked cook to give him some milk.

'Tell me to change back into Maurice,' said Maurice who was quite worn
out by his cattish experiences. But no one heard him. What they heard
was, 'Meaow--Meaow--Meeeaow!'

Then Maurice saw how he had been tricked. He could be changed back into
a boy as soon as any one said to him, 'Leave off being a cat and be
Maurice again,' but his tongue had no longer the power to ask any one to
say it.

He did not sleep well that night. For one thing he was not accustomed to
sleeping on the kitchen hearthrug, and the blackbeetles were too many
and too cordial. He was glad when cook came down and turned him out into
the garden, where the October frost still lay white on the yellowed
stalks of sunflowers and nasturtiums. He took a walk, climbed a tree,
failed to catch a bird, and felt better. He began also to feel hungry.
A delicious scent came stealing out of the back kitchen door. Oh, joy,
there were to be herrings for breakfast! Maurice hastened in and took
his place on his usual chair.

His mo