"Do you mean to make that noise all night?" said the cat, in a very sharp way.

"I do not know. I hope not. I wish I could lose this bad pain."

"You are a bad dog," said Mew-Mew.

"You have a nice warm bed to lie on; great care has been taken of you; you have had good food to eat; what more can you want?

"Yet you lie there and groan.

"As for poor me, all I have to lie on is an old bit of rug.

I think it is I that ought to groan."

"I wish you had my leg," said Bow-Wow.

"Oh, we shall never hear the last of that leg now." Then, as she had no more to say, she went to her rug to sleep.

But she had only slept for a little while, and had fallen into a nice dream about a mouse, when Bow-Wow gave a great cry.

"Why do you call out in that way?" said Mew-Mew, in a rage.

"I am so hot," cried Bow-Wow, "that I think I shall die."

"I wish you were dead," said the cat.

"Why did you wake me from my first sleep and let that fat mouse get away from me?

Am I to be kept awake all night to nurse you?"

"I only want you to take the rug off me," said Bow-Wow.

"Oh, dear! dear!" cried Mew-Mew.

But she took off the rug, and put it near the fire.

It would make her a nice soft bed. The rug she had was not so good and soft as this.