Those who have any interest in the career of Melba, the black cat whose adventures have been told in this column from time to time, may recall that she (or rather he: that mistake in sex has never been rectified) was seriously annoyed by the gift, to the children, of a black kitten. As time went on and the kitten grew larger, the other cat (a tabby) became tolerant of his presence. But Melba never. And of course the kitten delighted in annoying her. He hunted her out of her favourite chair, sprang upon her just as she would be composing herself for a"hap and ate all the choicest bits of her dinner. And Melba, who could have settled him with one paw, after the curious habit of elder animals to the young did nothing but crouch back and swear. One sad day the kitten, now a growing young cat, disappeared. Rewards were offered round the neighbourhood but to no purpose. The season of fur coats was returning and there, it was to be supposed, was the end of the kitten. Only Melba smiled in all the house. But a few days ago, a black cat hitherto unknown in the neighbourhood, where all cats are easily identified, has begun to frequent the garden. He answers exactly to what the kitten might now be if he had never gone away he will even pause, as if with some memory struggling in him, when called by the name he once knew well. Most significant of all, he is familiar with the ways of the house and almost any midday may be foulld eating Melba's dinner while she sits back and swears helplessly as of old. The worried look that she habitually wore in the days of the kitten's residence has returned and she peers anxiously round the door of any room before entering. It really must be the wanderer returned. If so, it is to be hoped that Melba will have the sense to put him in his place. The language she uses is a very bad example to the children. ion prohibited without permission.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.