Muff was not a kitten, but a venerable cat, who had belonged to Edith's
elder sister, and was given to Edith, the day that sister married, as a
very precious gift; and Edith loved that grey cat, loved her dearly. She
always sat in the same place in that dear little room. Edith had only
that day made her a new red leather collar, and Muff looked very smart
in it. "Muff won't hurt the birds, Fred dear," said Edith, "she is not
like a common cat." Whatever points of dissimilarity there might he
between Muff and the cat race in general, in this particular she quite
resembled them; she loved birds, and would not be very nice as to the
manner of obtaining them. What was to be done? Fred had all manner of
projects in his head for teaching the canaries to fly out and in the
cage, to bathe, to perch on his finger, etc.; but if, whenever any one
chanced to leave the door of the room open, Muff were to bounce in, why
there was an end to all such schemes. In short, Muff would get the birds
by fair means or foul, there was no doubt of that, and Fred was
desperate.
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