I was only fooling--he doesn't care what happens to those old
cats," said Charlie. "It's Mr. Fritz--over on Beech Street. He's cross
enough anyway without being asked a lot of extra questions."

But Meg was determined to see Mr. Fritz and she made Bobby go around
to Beech Street with her.

"It's just as Charlie said--they are his kittens," she argued. "And of
course if he says they have to be drowned they have to be: only we
won't do it."

"Don't you want to look at them?" asked Bobby, swinging the bag
gently.

Meg shook her head.

"Not if somebody has to drown them," she said.

Mr. Fritz lived in a large old-fashioned house, set back from the
street. When the children rang the door bell a deaf woman who did all
the housework for him--he was an old bachelor--came to the door.

"We don't want to buy anything," she declared, frowning at the bag
Bobby was carrying.

"We're not selling anything--these are kittens," Bobby explained, but
without raising his voice. He didn't know she was deaf.

"What did you say?" she asked.

"Kittens!" Bobby repeated, a little more loudly. "Mr. Fritz's
kittens."

"He wears gloves," said the maid crossly. "And my bread is in the oven
and I can't be bothered."

Meg stood on tiptoe and shouted.

"Is Mr. Fritz home?" she cried.

To her dismay a deep voice somewhere back in the house answered her.

"That he is," it said. "Won't you come in?" and there stood Mr. Fritz
himself, looking at her curiously.

Bobby with the bag and Meg with her dress box, stepped inside and the
maid closed the door. That made the hall so dark that poor Bobby,
unable to see where he was going, but moving ahead blindly, walked to
the basement stairs and made the most fearful clatter as he lost his
balance and fell half way. He managed to catch one arm around the
banister rail and check his descent, but the bag of kittens went all
the way.

"Bobby! Are you hurt?" Meg called fearfully.

"Bless me, child, I hope you haven't broken anything," said Mr. Fritz
anxiously.

Bobby felt his way to the bottom of the stairs and found the bag.

"Not unless I smashed the kittens," he said cheerfully, toiling up
again.

Mr. Fritz opened the door of a room at the back of the house and
enough light came out to show Bobby and Meg how to go in. Once inside
they found it was evidently Mr. Fritz's sitting room. It was rather
untidy, but comfortable and warm, with books and papers spread about.

"Now what can I do