Tabby Green was alone in the snowy street. The wind which blew with gusts¹ of the finest snow had nearly taken Tabby off her feet as she crept around the corner, and she was so cold and tired that she could hardly take another step. Just as she was preparing to make a final jump for the shelter of a flight of steps, a great white dog came trotting² through the snow and, to her great alarm, they ran into each other.
 
"I beg your pardon," said the dog, in the politest way.
 
"My fault, I'm sure," said Tabby Green, for she was such a well-bred kitty that no dog, even if he had the finest manners in the world, could be more courteous³ than she.
 
Then, "Why, bless me!" she exclaimed. "Can it be you, dear Bobby Gordon? How glad I am to see you once again!"
 
And to show how pleased she was, poor Tabby rubbed her thin sides against the good dog's legs.
 
Together they crouched⁴ under the arch of the high stone steps, where, from a grating in the sidewalk, came a breath of good warm air. It was close to somebody's furnace room, and only such poor wandering creatures as the hungry cat and the dog who had known better days can appreciate the air from a warm cellar.
 
They sat close together and Tabby tried to purr, but she was nearly dead and purr she could not.
 
"There, there!" soothed⁵ Bobby Gordon, as he licked the snow from poor kitty's back in the gentlest way. "I wouldn't purr. It's very kind of you to try, but it's a bad thing to do in the open air. They say it hurts the voice."
 
"And I have no voice left these days," admitted Tabby sadly. "Really, if it were not for these warm cellar-ways and the few stray scraps⁶ of food that one finds in such shocking places, I wouldn't be alive."
 
"But," said Bob, "you're just a poor tramp cat, and no one's bound to kill you. I'm a dog without a collar, all alone and afraid to be seen. I can't let any one come near for fear they'll tell the officers about me. Once I had a collar—such a beauty, too! But it came off within a week of my great misfortune. You know my master went away, and the wicked people in the house were going to get rid of me. I knew it. I wasn't wanted any more. I had to go."
 
Great tears stood in Bobby Gordon's eyes but he brushed them away with his paw.
 
Tabby was overcome. In all her wanderings she had never met a case so sad.
 
"Poor Mr. Gordon!" was all she could say. "My poor, hunted friend!"
 
Then she thought of her own fireside, the cozy⁷ home that she had known. And simply to think of the saucers of cream, and the plates of dainty pieces from her mistress' table, made Tabby Green's poor mouth water.
 
"Ah, me!" she sighed, and was pretty near to crying when a thought flashed to her mind. "There's one more chance!" she suddenly exclaimed. "You have a fine strong voice, and you can make folks hear. Now just below this house, where that shoemaker's sign hangs out, is a little girl, and a boy whom I know to be her brother. They stopped and spoke⁸ to me but this very day. I felt that they were kind and understood my case. But, although I followed to their door, they didn't see me. And, call out as loudly as I could, my poor voice has grown so weak I know they didn't hear me."
 
"It's little use," was all the weary dog could say. "I've barked at a hundred doors."
 
Kitty waited and yielded to his discouragement. Of cou............