Miss Kit is in the wars again. She wouldn’t come in and wouldn’t come in last night. Finally I found the poor little thing inching up the hall like a damaged moth. Goodness knows how long it took her; she had a nasty bite on her right foreleg, and I think she must have gone to ground in her woodpile and stiffened up. Anyway, she slept it all off in the course of the night and this morning, the Professor took her to the Vet, who has given her an antibiotic to be on the safe side, but was reassuring about the essential superficiality of the damage, and Miss K is now hopping about as if nothing had happened. I have a depressing feeling that the perpetrator may be Mrs Grey Cat, who was looking the picture of guilt and anxiety all evening, in which case, just when we thought it was all calming down, hostilities are escalating once more, which is VERY tiresome.