and
pushed him with his nose against the mouse-trap.

"Look, you carrion! Take him and hold him, Praskovya. . . . Hold
him opposite the door of the trap. . . . When I let the mouse out,
you let him go instantly. . . . Do you hear? . . . Instantly let
go! Now!"

My uncle assumed a mysterious expression and lifted the door of the
trap. . . . The mouse came out irresolutely, sniffed the air, and
flew like an arrow under the sofa. . . . The kitten on being released
darted under the table with his tail in the air.

"It has got away! got away!" cried Pyotr Demyanitch, looking
ferocious. "Where is he, the scoundrel? Under the table? You wait. . ."

My uncle dragged the kitten from under the table and shook him in
the air.

"Wretched little beast," he muttered, smacking him on the ear. "Take
that, take that! Will you shirk it next time? Wr-r-r-etch. . . ."

Next day Praskovya heard again the summons.

"Praskovya, there is a mouse caught! Bring the kitten here!"

After the outrage of the previous day the kitten had taken refuge
under the stove and had not come out all night. When Praskovya
pulled him out and, carrying him by the scruff of the neck into the
study, set him down before the mouse-trap, he trembled all over and
mewed piteously.

"Come, let him feel at home first," Pyotr Demyanitch commanded.
"Let him look and sniff. Look and learn! Stop, plague take you!"
he shouted, noticing that the kitten was backing away from the
mouse-trap. "I'll thrash you! Hold him by the ear! That's it. . . .
Well now, set him down before the trap. . . ."

My uncle slowly lifted the door of the trap . . . the mouse whisked
under the very nose of the kitten, flung itself against Praskovya's
hand and fled under the cupboard; the kitten, feeling himself free,
took a desperate bound and retreated under the sofa.

"He's let another mouse go!" bawled Pyotr Demyanitch. "Do you call
that a cat? Nasty little beast! Thrash him! thrash him by the
mousetrap!"

When the third mouse had been caught, the kitten shivered all over
at the sight of the mousetrap and its inmate, and scratched Praskovya's
hand. . . . After the fourth mouse my uncle flew into a rage, kicked
the kitten, and said:

"Take the nasty thing away! Get rid of it! Chuck it away! It's no
earthly use!"

A year passed, the thin, frail kitten had turned into a solid and
sagacious tom-cat. One day he was on his way by the back yards to
an amatory interview. He had just reach