"Well, will that do?" said Mew-Mew.

"Oh, I do not know; I am very ill."

"I dare say you are not a bit worse than I am; you have not a bad cold as I have."

"A bad cold! What is a bad cold to a leg as full of pain as mine is?"

"Oh! there you are! all about the leg again!"

Mew-Mew went off to her rug, and was soon fast asleep.

She slept this time for a good long while, and Bow-Wow slept too; but as break of day came, Bow-Wow made a very loud cry.

"Dear me! dear me! what is it now?" said Mew-Mew.

"I cannot bear this great pain any longer. You must come and help me with my bad leg."

"Anything for peace," said Mew-Mew, and up she came and bit through what was on the leg and took it off.

"Well, are you all right now?"

"I am better," said Bow-Wow. But he lay back, for he could not hold up his head.

"You do not look to me as if you would live," said the cat, after she had had a long look at him.

"Not look as if I should live?" said Bow-Wow.

"No, I do not think you will live;" and with that, she sat down before the dog, with her eyes fixed on his face, as if she meant to wait there and see the end of him.