English setter, and hadn't been able to find one at the price I felt justified in paying.
Well sir, here was a surprising thing. We fed that cat and fed her—I'd hate to tot up all the money we've paid out for milk and meat for that cat—but even so, she was bound and determined she was going to get at that poor little canary. She'd hang around underneath the cage and look up at Dicky, absolutely bloodthirsty, and one time when somebody (and I always thought it was Mame did it herself, too, and not the hired girl)—when somebody left a chair right practically under the cage, Minnie lep' up on the chair and absolutely did her best to leap up and get at the cage.
Of course Mame and I had words about that—
And then that damn' cat never would be friendly, at least not to me.
I used to say to Mame, "Well, what does the fool cat do for its living, anyway? Think we're sent into the world just to loaf around and enjoy ourselves and sponge on other people?" I says.
