The Three Cats
A very curious thing happened to me at half-past four,
yesterday. Three visitors came knocking at my door, begging me
to let them in. And when I opened the door, who do you think they
were?
You'll never guess.
Why, they were three cats! Wasn't it curious? However, they
all looked so cross and disagreeable that I took up the first thing
I could lay my hand on (which happened to be the rolling-pin) and
knocked them all down as flat as pancakes!
That was fair, wasn't it?
Of course I didn't leave them lying flat on the ground, like
dried flowers: no, I picked them up, and I was as kind as I could
be to them. I lent them the portfolio for a bed - they wouldn't have
been comfortable in a real bed, you know: they were too thin - but
they were quite happy between the sheets of blotting-paper -
and each of them had a pen-wiper for a pillow. Well, then I went to
bed: but first I lent them the three dinner-bells to ring if they
wanted anything in the night.
You know I have three dinner-bells - the first (which
is the largest) is rung when dinner is nearly ready; the second
(which is rather larger) is rung when it is quite ready; and the third
(which is as large as the other two put together) is rung all the time I am at
dinner. And I told them they must ring if they happened to want anything.
And, as they rang all the bells all night, I suppose they
did want something or other, only I was too sleepy to attend to them.
In the morning I gave them some rat-tail jelly and buttered
mice for breakfast and they were as discontented as they could be. And,
do you know, when I had gone out for a walk, they got all my
books out of the bookcase, and opened them at page 50, because they
thought that would be a nice useful page to begin at. It was rather
unfortunate, though: because they took my bottle of gum and tried to
gum pictures upon the ceiling (which they thought would please me).
They accidentally spilt a quantity of it all over the books. So when
they were shut up and put by, the leaves all stuck together, and I can
never read page 50 again in any of them!
However, they meant it very kindly, so i wasn't angry. I gave
them each a spoonful of ink as a treat; but they were ungrateful for
that and made the most dreadful faces. But, of course, as it was given
them for a treat, they had to drink it. One of them has turned black
since: it was a white cat to begin with.
They wanted some boiled pelican, but, of course, I know it
wouldn't be good for them. So all I said was "Go to Agnes Hughes,
and if it's really good for you she'll give you some."
Then I shook hands with them all, and wished them good-bye,
and drove them up the chimney. They seemed very sorry to go.
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by Lewis Carroll
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