e kitchen a little later there wasn't a
speck of dirt on her coat. And her face was spotless. No one would have
guessed that she had ever made her way through an old chimney.

Old dog Spot said nothing to her then. But he chuckled to himself. He
had a plan that pleased him hugely.

All this happened on a morning. And late that afternoon when Miss Kitty
Cat wasn't anywhere to be seen, and Farmer Green's wife opened the
buttery door to get a pitcher of cream for supper, Spot suddenly began
to bark in the shed. He scrambled up a stepladder that leaned against
the wall and stood on the top of it while he pawed the air frantically,
as if he were trying to fly.

The noise brought Mrs. Green hurriedly out of the buttery. And she was
just in time to see Miss Kitty Cat peer out of the old stove-pipe hole,
with a _creamy_ look about her mouth.

Well, the cat was out of the bag at last. Or perhaps it would be more
exact to say that Miss Kitty was out of the buttery. Anyhow, it was very
plain to Mrs. Green that she had been in the buttery only a moment
before, lapping thick cream off a pan of milk. And she hadn't had time
to wash her face.

After that Farmer Green stopped up the stove-pipe hole. And soon Miss
Kitty's appetite for milk returned. When Mrs. Green set out her saucer
of milk for her Miss Kitty lapped it up greedily--and even licked the
saucer clean.

Old dog Spot watched her with a grin.

"I let you know when I caught the cream thief, just as I promised you I
would," he jeered.

Miss Kitty wiped her face very carefully before replying.

"Don't boast!" she said. "It's a disagreeable thing to do.... Besides,
_I_ knew--_long before you did_--who was taking Mrs. Green's cream."

XI

THE WRENS' HOME

THERE wasn't a bird on the farm that didn't dislike Miss Kitty Cat. And
there was only one bird family that didn't live in dread of her. That
was the Wren family. And they had a good reason for feeling safe from
Miss Kitty.

Miss Kitty Cat always spluttered whenever she unbent herself enough to
talk with anybody about Rusty Wren and his busy little wife, who had
their home in the cherry tree outside Farmer Green's window.

"The Wrens needn't feel so proud of their house," Miss Kitty Cat
sometimes said. "It's nothing but an old syrup can. And I know for a
fact that Mrs. Bluebird looked at it last spring when she was hunting
for a home. And she said she wouldn't live in such a place. I heard her
tell her