“Well, then,” said Maisie reluctantly, “I think we ought to cast lots, so as to give them each a chance.”
This appealed to Dennis’s sense of justice, and was besides the usual way of settling differences between his sister and himself. He pulled out three pieces of hay of different lengths, and holding them tightly shut in his hand, with the ends sticking out in an even row, said shortly, “You choose.”
“Which is which?” asked Maisie, her face getting pink with excitement.
“The longest’s the black, the middling’s the white, and the shortest’s the grey,” said Dennis, with the calmness of fate.
Maisie gazed at the little yellow ends of hay sticking out between her brother’s stout red fingers, almost with terror. The old cat, with one paw thrown languidly over the black kitten, watched the proceedings carelessly.
“I’ll have this one!” exclaimed Maisie desperately, tugging at the middle piece.
“Hurrah!” cried Dennis, as he opened his hand, and he threw up his cap exultingly; for it was the black kitten that was to live.
“I’m just as sorry as I was before about the others,” said Maisie wistfully; “but of course I do like the black one best, and Madam seems proud of it too. What shall we call it?”
“Nigger,” said Dennis.
Maisie looked doubtful.