Black, White and Gray | Page 3

objections. Nothing, she insisted, was so important
to children of Dennis and Maisie's age as plenty of liberty and fresh air.
The time would soon come when Dennis must go to school, and Maisie
must have a governess; until then, the daily hour in which they learned
to read and write and to do simple sums--for Aunt Katharine was not
great at figures--was quite education enough.
This was decidedly the opinion of the children themselves, and perhaps
they were not the worse for the free life they lived at Fieldside, happy
in the companionship of all the pleasant outdoor things, and dependent
on no one but themselves for amusement. But it was not all freedom.
Aunt Katharine made rules, and the children knew that these must be
obeyed, and were never relaxed unless for some very good reason. One
of these rules applied to the number of pets, which had once threatened
to become overwhelming. Cats especially began to swarm in such
multitudes in the garden and house, that Aunt Katharine was obliged to
take severe measures to reduce them. That done, she made a rule.
Madam, the favourite old cat, was to be kept, but all her kittens, except
one out of each family, must for the future be drowned. It was a
dreadful blow to Maisie in particular, who, being a girl, was not
obliged to smother her feelings; and now, here was another of these
miserable occasions-- the white and grey kittens must be sent out of the
world almost as soon as they had entered it!

All the while she was having her frock changed and her hair brushed
before tea, she turned the matter over in her mind. Could she possibly
prevail on Aunt Katharine to spare the kittens this once. It seemed odd
that Aunt Katharine, who was so kind to every one, could bear to let
such poor little helpless things be killed. Maisie supposed it must be
one of those many, many things she had been told she should
understand when she was older. Dennis always said it did not hurt them,
but though she looked up to him a good deal, she did not feel at all sure
that he was right in this case. At any rate, if it did not hurt the kittens, it
must be most painful for Madam to lose two of her children in such a
dreadful way.
Full of those thoughts, she went down to the schoolroom, where Aunt
Katharine always joined the children at tea-time. She found her already
there, listening to Dennis, who was giving an excited account of the
discovery of Madam in the hayloft that afternoon.
"It's such a jolly little kitten we're going to keep, you can't think, Aunt
Katharine," he said; "as black as a coal all over."
"And what does Maisie think?" said Aunt Katharine, turning to the
little girl, who had not joined in her brother's description. "Does she
like it best too?"
Maisie's round face became very pink, and she nervously crumbled up
her cake, but said nothing.
"Would you rather keep the white one or the grey one, dear?" asked her
aunt kindly. "I daresay Dennis would not mind. He shall choose next
time."
"We didn't choose," put in Dennis quickly; "we cast lots, so it's quite
fair. It's only," he continued, lowering his voice confidentially, "that
she doesn't like the others to be drowned."
"Is that it, Maisie?" asked Aunt Katharine.
Maisie nodded. She had meant to say a good deal, but now that the

moment had come, her feelings were rather more than she could
manage. She gazed beseechingly at Aunt Katharine, who could save the
kittens by one word, and still crumbling up her cake with her little
brown hands, murmured, "Just this once."
Aunt Katharine smiled.
"And how about my rule?" she said. "If you keep the kittens `just this
once,' you will want to keep the next, and the next, and we shall soon
have as many cats as there were before. That would never do."
"There were fifteen," said Dennis.--"Pass the cake, please, Maisie."
Maisie gave a little gulp of disappointment. It did not seem to her that
fifteen cats were at all too many for comfort and pleasure, but Aunt
Katharine knew best. So she drew a small handkerchief out of her
pocket, wiped the crumbs from her fingers, and struggled for
composure. Both she and Dennis thought the matter quite ended, for
their aunt began to talk of other things, and after tea she read to them as
usual, and not another word was said about the kittens until bed-time. It
was surprising, therefore, to hear her say as she shut up the book:
"Children, I have something to propose to you about the kittens. You
know I can't