One night I was shut up in a room by accident

One night I was shut up in a room by accident

One night I was shut up in a room by accident

But to resume my story. One night I was shut up in a room by accident, and no one heard me call, for I did call, and, in the morning, the room wasn’t just as it ought to have been, and for this new offence I was condemned to die taken away in a sack, and drowned.

Not dead? Bless you, no; it wasn’t likely I was going to remain at the bottom of a mill-dam, in an old guano-bag. I was up again before you could say mouse, and had swam on shore as cool as you like. It was a beautiful day in early autumn, the fields were all ablaze with golden grain, and the berries beginning to turn red and black in the hedgerows. I sat down on a sheaf of wheat and basked till dry in the warm sunshine. Then a young pheasant ran round the corner and cried, “Peet, peet, have you seen my mother anywhere?” I thought I never had tasted anything half so sweet in all my life. Then I felt a new Tom from top to toe. Go back and be a house-cat? No, perish the thought. And I never did.