What's Pussycat Got That Ann Rutherford Hasn't Got?

As he staggered out of his bedroom the other morning, rubbing his eyes to wipe away the queer apparitions of early awakening, it dawned upon Edwin R. (call me Mickey) Rooney, Jr. '46 that he was sharing his suite with some real strangers.

Comfortably curled up on Mickey's couch, contentedly licking herself, lay a beautiful black cat and five kittens to whom she had just given birth. Dismayed at finding this abandoned, fatherless family in his abode, Rooney at once suspected Franco W. Peabody, 3rd '46, notorious for picking up stray cats, and accused him of the blackguardly deed.

"I won't have Peabody turn my room into a cat-house," fumed Rooney as he fled modestly to the Eliot House janitor's office for refuge until his feline ledgers had been dispossessed.