It was a warm, sunny day in June.

The two little kittens had met as they often did, under a large blush rosebush in the garden. Jazbury did not seem as lively and playful as usual.

"What's the matter with you, Jazbury?" asked Fluffy. "You seem so quiet. Don't you want to play?"

"No."

"Why?"

Jazbury was silent for a moment. Then he said, "I've just had a bath again."

"Oh, Jazbury! Not again?"

"Yes, again. With water. And soap. And rubbed afterward. You know. I told you all about it."

"But, Jazbury!" cried Fluffy. "What does she do it for? Of course you were dirty at first. You know you were. You really needed to be washed then. I don't believe you could have cleaned yourself, you were so very dirty. But you don't need to be bathed now."

"Course I don't. I wash and wash myself. I wash every day. I wash myself just as much as you do. And I'm not going to stand being scrubbed with water. No, I'm not."

"But what are you going to do about it?"

"I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to run away. I'm going home!"

Fluffy started.

"Oh, Jazbury! You're not--not really going home? Where our mommas live?"

"Yes, I am. I'm going away tonight before she has a chance to wash me again."

"Oh, goody! goody!" cried Fluffy. "And I'll go, too. May I, Jazbury? I want to."

"All right. You meet me out here tonight when it's too dark for any one to see us. I'll be waiting for you."

The two little kittens were so excited over this plan that Jazbury grew quite cheerful again. How wonderful it would be to see their mothers again, and to play in their own back yards. They felt as though they could hardly wait to set out on their homeward journey.