Black, White and Gray | Page 2

the others," said Maisie
wistfully; "but of course I do like the black one best, and Madam seems
proud of it too. What shall we call it?"
"Nigger," said Dennis.
Maisie looked doubtful.
"That's not a very nice name," she said slowly. "I should like to call it
Jonah, because, you see, the lot fell upon it."
"Well, but, you silly thing," replied Dennis, "that just wouldn't do,
because Jonah was drowned when the lot fell upon him, and the black
kitten won't be."
"He wasn't drowned," said Maisie, in a low impressive voice.
"Well, worse. I'd rather have been drowned," said Dennis shortly;
"anyhow, I don't like the name of Jonah. It ought to have something to
do with its colour."
"Do you think," said Maisie, looking with pity at the white and grey
kittens, "that we need tell Tom to drown them quite directly. Mightn't
we leave them till to-morrow, and hear what Aunt Katharine says?"
"She won't say anything different," said Dennis, with a decided shake
of the head. "You know she made a rule. But we'll leave them if you
like."
Before the children left the loft, half an hour later, they took a tender
leave of Madam and her family, and Maisie gave an extra caress to the
white and grey kittens, which she felt sure she should never see again.
Nevertheless, at the bottom of her heart, there was a tiny hope that she

might be able to save them, for sometimes, even when she had made a
rule, Aunt Katharine was unexpectedly yielding.
Dennis and Maisie had lived with their aunt, Miss Katharine Chester,
since they had been babies. They had arrived one autumn day at
Fieldside, all the way from India, two little motherless, white-faced
things under the care of strangers, and from that time till now, when
Dennis was a square-shouldered boy of ten, and Maisie a sunburnt little
girl of eight, Aunt Katharine had been everything to them. Certainly
father was in India, and would come home some day, and meanwhile
often sent them letters and parcels, but he was such a complete stranger,
that he did not count for much in their little lives. On mail-days, when
they had to write to him, it was often very hard to think of something to
say, for they did not feel at all sure of his tastes, or what was likely to
interest him: it was like writing to a picture or a shadow, and not a real
person at all.
Now Aunt Katharine was a very real person, though she was also a
very busy one, and if it was sometimes difficult to get hold of her
during the day, there was always the evening. Then she was quite ready
to listen to questions, to hear news, and to go thoroughly into any
matters of interest or difficulty which had been saved for that time. The
hour immediately after breakfast was devoted to lessons, but it was not
easy to talk to Aunt Katharine then, for she had so many things on her
mind. She never shortened the time, but the children knew that the
moment ten o'clock struck, books must be shut, and Aunt Katharine
free to begin her busy round from kitchen to dairy, from garden to
poultry-yard and stables. Every part of her pleasant little kingdom was
daily visited by this active lady, and it repaid her care within and
without, for no one had such good butter, such abundance of fresh eggs,
such a well-kept stable, such luxuriantly blooming flowers, and such
fine vegetables. No one had a pleasanter house, roomy and cheerful,
and not too grandly furnished for children and animals to run about in
freely.
And Miss Chester's cares were not confined to her own possessions
alone, for nothing that went on in the village of Fieldside, just outside

her gates, was unknown to her. She was ready to settle disputes, to
nurse sickness, and to relieve distress, and was never known to fail any
one who applied to her for help. Into this life, already so full of varied
business, Dennis and Maisie had brought added responsibilities, and
Aunt Katharine had undertaken them with her usual decision and
energy. As long as the children were babies, somewhat delicate and
ailing, she had bestowed all her thought and care upon them, and given
up many outside interests for their sake.
But now they were babies no longer, but had grown up healthy and
strong, and by degrees she returned to her busy life, and left them a
great deal to themselves. Her married sister, Mrs Trevor, who lived not
far off at Haughton Park, considered her strangely neglectful of their
education, but Miss Chester had her own ideas on that subject, and
would not listen to