I began to wonder whether he had lost his mother when young, and had been brought up by a cat.
George and I climbed in, and sat waiting for Harris.

He came a moment later.

Myself, I thought he looked rather neat.

He wore a white flannel knickerbocker suit, which he had had made specially for bicycling in hot weather; his hat may have been a trifle out of the common, but it did keep the sun off.
The horse gave one look at him, said "Gott in Himmel!" as plainly as ever horse spoke, and started off down Friedrich Strasse at a brisk walk, leaving Harris and the driver standing on the pavement.

His owner called to him to stop, but he took no notice.