Black, White and Gray by Amy Walton (best books to read for young adults txt) 📖

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 let you keep them, because it is against my rule, which I should not have made unless it had been necessary; but, if you like to find them two good homes, I will allow you to give them away this time."

"Oh auntie!" exclaimed Maisie, clapping her hands, "how lovely!"

"How long may we have to look out?" asked Dennis.

"The kittens must be sent away from here this day three weeks," said Aunt Katharine solemnly; "and remember, children, I said `two _good_ homes,' so I trust you to take trouble to find them. It would be really kinder to drown them at once, than to send them where they might be starved or ill-treated."

Two good homes! It was indeed a serious responsibility, and their aunt had said the words so earnestly, that the children were both much impressed by them. Maisie in particular, in the midst of her rejoicing that the kittens were saved, felt quite sobered by the burden resting upon her.

"How ever shall we find two good homes?" she said to Dennis as they went up-stairs. But Dennis never looked at the troublesome side of life, if he could avoid it.

"It'll be jolly to keep all three of them for three weeks, won't it?" he said. "How pleased Madam would be if she knew!"

"We must get up very early to-morrow, and go and tell her," said Maisie.

"It matters most to tell Tom," said Dennis; "because if he finds them in the loft, he'll drown them straight off in a bucket."

The horror of this suggestion, and the future of the two kittens if they escaped this danger, kept Maisie awake for a long while that night.

She slept in a tiny room opening out of Aunt Katharine's, and she knew how dreadfully late it must be, when she heard her aunt moving about, and saw the light of her candle underneath the door. After that, however, she soon went to sleep, with the kittens, their homes, and Tom the stable-boy, all jumbled up together in her head.


CHAPTER TWO.

HAUGHTON PARK.

Before the clock had finished striking six the next morning, Dennis and Maisie were in the stable-yard. Tom was there, pumping water into a pail, and Jacko the raven was there, stalking about with gravity, and uttering a deep croak now and then. Jacko was not a nice character, and more feared than liked by most people. He was a thief and a bully, and so cunning that it was impossible to be up to all his tricks. In mischief he delighted, and nothing pleased him more than to frighten and tease helpless things, yet, with all these bad qualities, he had been allowed to march about for many years, unreproved, in Aunt Katharine's stable-yard. Maisie had been very much afraid of him in the days when she wore socks, for he had a way of digging at her little bare legs with his cruel beak whenever he could get near her. She was not frightened of him now that she was older, especially when Dennis was with her, but still she did not trust him, and took care this morning not to cross his path on her way to speak to Tom.

"If Jacko knew about the kittens," remarked Dennis as they passed, "he'd go and peck out their eyes."

"Oh!" shuddered Maisie; "but," she added in a whisper, for she always fancied Jacko understood, "their eyes aren't open yet, and besides Madam would claw and scratch at him."

"He can claw and scratch too," said Dennis. "I expect he could kill Madam and her kittens easily. And then he'd bury them, just as he does his food, you know, and then."

Fortunately for Maisie, who was listening with horror to this picture of cruelty and crime, Dennis stopped at this point, for they were now close to Tom, who with his back towards them was making a dreadful noise with a creaking pump handle.

"I say, Tom," he called out. Tom slowly turned his freckled face over his shoulder, but did not leave off his work. "Madam's kittens are _not_ to be drowned," shouted Dennis at the top of his voice.

"They're _all_ to be saved," added Maisie in a shriller key.--"Oh Dennis, I don't believe he has taken it in. Do tell him to leave off pumping."

But just then, Tom's pails being full, he left off of his own accord, and proceeded to carry them into the stable.

"You _do_ understand, Tom," said Maisie anxiously, for she had an idea that Tom rather liked drowning kittens. "_Not_ to be drowned."

Tom's voice having answered indistinctly from one of the stalls, she turned to follow Dennis, who was already half-way up the steep ladder which led to the loft. After all, Madam could not be told the good news, for she had gone out for a stroll, leaving her family in a little warm furry heap in their bed.

"Just fancy how dreadful it would be for her if she came back and found only one left," said Maisie, touching the little round heads softly with her finger. "I _am_ so glad they're not to be drowned."

"I'm tremendously glad we're going to keep the black one ourselves," said Dennis. "What do you think of the name of Smut?"

"I don't like it a bit," said Maisie.

They had got no further towards a name by breakfast time. All those which Maisie liked, Dennis thought silly, and those which Dennis proposed, Maisie thought ugly, so it promised to be a difficult matter to settle. As soon as they were seated at breakfast, however, Aunt Katharine made a suggestion which put the black kitten out of their heads for the present.

"Children," she said, "I am going to drive over to Haughton Park to lunch this morning. If you like, you may both go with me and see Philippa."

There was a moment's pause, and then Dennis asked seriously:

"Shall you go anywhere besides, Aunt Katharine, or just straight there?"

"I shall only stop at Mrs Broadbent's on my way," she replied, "to ask about so some fowls."

The children looked at each other, but made no answer.

"Well," said their aunt, smiling, "I dare say you'd like to talk it over together. I shall start at twelve o'clock, and if you decide to go, you must be ready to the minute, for I shall not wait for you. Do just as you like about it."

To go or not to go to Haughton was always a matter which required thought. There were things against it, and things for it. In Maisie's opinion, there was a great deal to be liked in the visit. There was a large, beautiful house, much larger than Fieldside, and a park with deer in it: there were all sorts of dolls and toys and pretty things which she enjoyed playing with, and--there was Philippa. Philippa was perhaps a doubtful pleasure, for if she was in a cross mood she was not agreeable, but there was always the chance that she would be pleasant, and then she and Maisie got on very well together with their dolls. Dennis was disposed to be rather scornful about going to Haughton, but in his case there was the attraction of the drive, when Aunt Katharine sometimes let him hold the reins, and there was the chance of her stopping at somewhere interesting on the way. Mrs Broadbent's would be better than nothing to-day, though it was not his favourite farmhouse.

"I don't think I want to go _much_," he said, as soon as he and Maisie had reached the play-room. "Aunt Trevor's sure to have a headache, and then we shall have to be as quiet as mice."

"P'raps she'll let us go out with Philippa," said Maisie.

"Not without Miss Mervyn comes too," said Dennis. "I don't care about that--it's no fun. She's always saying, `You mustn't do this, or you mustn't do that.'"

"Well," said Maisie, "should I go with Aunt Katharine then, and you stay at home?"

But this did not suit Dennis at all. It would never do for Maisie to come back and describe all manner of enjoyments which he had not shared. It would be better to go and grumble than to be left at home alone.

"Oh, I'll go," he said, condescendingly. And so it came to pass that when the ponies, Jack and Jill, came round, the children were both waiting in the hall, fully prepared for the drive. As she drew on her driving gloves, Aunt Katharine gave a glance at them to see that they were warmly wrapped up, for it was a fresh day in early spring.

"Jump in, children, and let Mary tuck you well up; it's rather cold," she said.--"Give me the reins, Tom. All right."

Then came a dash down the short avenue, with Tom running before to open the gate, and then they were in