a reminder of the farm that "used to
be," and the sight of the trees brought a troubled look into Tattine's
face. "Patrick," she said ruefully, "do you know that some of the nests
in these trees have been robbed of their eggs? Four or five of them are
empty now. Have you an idea who could do such a thing?"

"Yes, I have an idea," and Patrick rested his hands upon the handle of
his rake and looked significantly towards the barn; "somebody who lives
in the barn, I'm thinkin'."

"Why, Joseph would not do it, nor Philip the groom, and little Joey is
too small to climb these trees."

"It's something smaller than Joey, miss. Whisht now, and see if she's
not up to mischief this minute."

Tattine's little black-and-white kitten, whose home was in the barn, had
been frisking about her feet during all the raking, but as the raking
came under the apple-trees, other thoughts came into her little
black-and-white head, and there she was stealthily clawing her way up
the nearest tree. Tattine stood aghast, but Patrick's "whisht" kept
her still for a moment, while the cat made its way along one of the
branches. Tattine knowing well the particular nest she was seeking, made
one bound for her with her rake, and with such a scream as certainly to
scare little Black-and-white out of at least one of the nine lives
to which she is supposed to be entitled. But pussy was too swift and
swiftly scrambled to the very topmost twig that would hold her weight,
while Tattine danced about in helpless rage on the grass beneath the
tree. "Tattine is having a fit," thought little Black-and-white, scared
half to death and quite ready to have a little fit of her own, to judge
from her wild eyes and bristling tail.

Tattine's futile rage was followed in a few minutes by, "Oh, Patrick,
I never dreamt it was Kittie. Has SHE been TRAINED to do it, do you
think?"

"Oh. no, miss; it just comes natural to cats and kittens to prey upon
birds and birds' nests."

"Patrick," said Tattine solemnly, "there is not going to be any
four-legged thing left for me to love. I am done with Betsy and Doctor,
and now I'm done with Black-and-white. I wonder if Mamma can make it
seem any better," and then she turned her steps to the house in search
of comfort, but she had gone only half-way when the coachman, who was
waiting at the door with the little grey mare and the phaeton, motioned
to her to come quietly. Tattine saw at a glance what had happened, and
sped swiftly