And noo  me.

    tern ters to. And it s in all ts of all t once; and spring stopped dead in its tracks and migime, not come at all; and tle and t ed for he loss of love.

    And rudge drearily off to dirty ss and a mean supper of bread and ceal  at least ts a y appetite no of mortals; for t time since t fateful morning, sleeps sound. But sleep comes o Puss tonigakes a midnigroll across tably discusses a c cod abby friend found among turns to otters.

    quot;Rats!quot; s;And take your boots off, you uncout fles;

    tle, I ask  s;ratsquot; of o me. er must pose as a rat-catc marmalade rat-trap. s t ravage miladys bedco fetc, and s leisure for, if t, it is a rat and sill t rat is off t. Oabby one, sack is sulate y ionate cuffs round t, ubiquitous Puss, here and everywhere, whos your Figaro?

    Master applauds t ploy; but, as to ts to arrive in t place? he queries.

    quot;Notty soubrette res sed about t particularly, t of to be done tomorroaloon rides out to fetcs. By good fortune, do-catc abide eit or a cat, it falls to milady to escort t-catcrepid er, myself, to te of tation.

    quot;Once youre in  knoo do, t ;

    quot;Keep your foul ts to yourself, Puss.quot;

    Some t from humour.

    Sure enoug at five in t morning, I observe atoes to rake in S; and in ter, I  acall ourselves under a certain stered  pile of traps s us, top t determined look of a sworn enemy of vermin.

    eve not ed more teen minutes -- and just as -plagued Bergam