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 was Peterkin. At the moment we saw him he was gazing intently into the cat's face, with his nose about four inches from it, —his hands being thrust into his breeches pockets.

"Cat," said Peterkin, turning his head a little on one side, " I love you!"

There was a pause, as if Peterkin awaited a reply to this affectionate declaration. But the cat said nothing.

"Do you hear me?" cried Peterkin sharply. "I love you—I do. Don't you love me?"

To this touching appeal the cat said "Mew," faintly.

"Ah! that's right. You're a jolly old rascal. Why did you not speak at once? eh?" and Peterkin put forward his mouth and kissed the cat on the nose!

"Yes," continued Peterkin, after a pause, "I love you. D'you think I'd say so if I didn't, you black villain? I love you because I've got to take care of you, and to look after you, and to think about you, and to see that you don't die—"

"Mew, me-a-w!" said the cat.

"Very good," continued Peterkin, " quite true, I have no doubt; but you've no right to interrupt me, sir. Hold your tongue till I have done speaking. Moreover, cat, I love you because you came to me the first time you ever saw me, and didn't seem to be afraid, and appeared to be fond of me, though you didn't kuow that I wasn't going to kill you. Now, that was brave, that was bold, and very jolly, old boy, and I love you for it—I do!"

Again there was a pause of a few minutes, during which the cat looked placid, and Peterkin dropped his eyes upon its toes as if in contemplation. Suddenly he looked up.

"Well, cat, what are you thinking about now? won't