feet that he often tripped in his long dressing gown and had to make absurd skips and capers to keep from falling. Fourchette was a very young cat in those days, and had not really learned that feet are dangerous.
But then came the exciting summer when the Gas actually arrived. Harry Smith and his carpenters and Mr. Penny and his plumbers came to remodel the kitchen. There was crashing and hammering and dust and confusion. The faithful coal range that had cooked so many good meals was taken in pieces and put out by the back steps. It stood there a long time, rusting in summer showers, until someone could be found to take it away. The old boiler that had heated the water for so many grimy children's baths was given to Mrs. Spaniel, the washerwoman, who needed a bigger boiler for washing so many clothes.
What a time it was! It seemed to Fourchette that the strong foundations of life itself were shaken. The stove, the boiler, the good old kitchen sink, were lying about by the back steps. Cockroaches were homeless. Perez, the Filipino cook, had need of all his good humour: he had to do his cooking on an oil stove on the kitchen
