KITTEN AND FLIES We were walking uphill when my companion
paused as we came to three cottages with flagged forecourts and little flower beds beneath their win- dows. 'I have a relative who lives here,' he said. 'I'll just call and see if she's well.' I was glad of a breather and stood while my friend knocked on the door and went in. It was warm, and a kitten sunned itself on the flags, or I thought it did until suddenly it pounced, lifted a paw and found that the quarry had escaped. It was trying to catch flies, large blue- bottles. The kitten switched its tail, but froze immediately the flies settled. Perhaps they were play- ing the game, too, for they invariably came within range and the kitten's body tensed for the spring. It was the look of bewilderment when the fly got away that amused me. The kitten was beaten every time. At length a murmur of voices within the cot- tages announced my friend's leavetaking and he came out, almost putting his foot down upon the kitten, which sprang into a little bush at the end of the cottage and then peered out like a miniature tiger. Life for flies and kittens is fraught with both danger and excitement.
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