It was such a very nice kitten. Not only because of its dense blackness, but its coat was as glossy and thick as that of a little mole, and its shape unusually stumpy and attractive.
“Isn’t it a beauty?” said Dennis, in a delighted whisper; “we must keep it.”
“We haven’t looked at the others yet,” said Maisie cautiously; “don’t let’s settle so soon.”
The black kitten was accordingly given back to Madam, who at once licked it all over from top to toe, and the others brought out one by one. There was a perfectly white one, much smaller than the first, and the other was a commonplace striped grey.
“I don’t care about either,” said Dennis; “they’re just like lots and lots of other kittens, and they grow up like lots and lots of other cats. Now the black’s uncommon.”
“I can’t bear settling which is to be drowned,” sighed Maisie. “I suppose we may really only keep one.”
“You’re a ninny,” said Dennis shortly.
In reality he did not like to doom the kittens any better than his sister, but he would have thought it womanly to show his feelings.
“I call it unfair,” continued Maisie, stroking the white and grey kittens with her little brown hand, “to drown them just because they’re not pretty. It’s not as if they were bad.”
“But you know we mustn’t keep them all,” said Dennis impatiently; “so what’s the good of going on like that? We must choose, and the black’s the best, isn’t it?”