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