But now they were babies no longer, but had grown up healthy and strong, and by degrees she returned to her busy life, and left them a great deal to themselves. Her married sister, Mrs Trevor, who lived not far off at Haughton Park, considered her strangely neglectful of their education, but Miss Chester had her own ideas on that subject, and would not listen to objections. Nothing, she insisted, was so important to children of Dennis and Maisie’s age as plenty of liberty and fresh air. The time would soon come when Dennis must go to school, and Maisie must have a governess; until then, the daily hour in which they learned to read and write and to do simple sums—for Aunt Katharine was not great at figures—was quite education enough.
This was decidedly the opinion of the children themselves, and perhaps they were not the worse for the free life they lived at Fieldside, happy in the companionship of all the pleasant outdoor things, and dependent on no one but themselves for amusement. But it was not all freedom. Aunt Katharine made rules, and the children knew that these must be obeyed, and were never relaxed unless for some very good reason. One of these rules applied to the number of pets, which had once threatened to become overwhelming. Cats especially began to swarm in such multitudes in the garden and house, that Aunt Katharine was obliged to take severe measures to reduce them. That done, she made a rule. Madam, the favourite old cat, was to be kept, but all her kittens, except one out of each family, must for the future be drowned. It was a dreadful blow to Maisie in particular, who, being a girl, was not obliged to smother her feelings; and now, here was another of these miserable occasions—the white and grey kittens must be sent out of the world almost as soon as they had entered it!
All the while she was having her frock changed and her hair brushed before tea, she turned the matter over in her mind. Could she possibly prevail on Aunt Katharine to spare the kittens this once. It seemed odd that Aunt Katharine, who was so kind to every one, could bear to let such poor little helpless things be killed. Maisie supposed it must be one of those many, many things she had been told she should understand when she was older. Dennis always said it did not hurt them, but though she looked up to him a good deal, she did not feel at all sure that he was right in this case. At any rate, if it did not hurt the kittens, it must be most painful for Madam to lose two of her children in such a dreadful way.
Full of those thoughts, she went down to the schoolroom, where Aunt Katharine always joined the children at tea-time. She found her already there, listening to Dennis, who was giving an excited account of the discovery of Madam in the hayloft that afternoon.
“It’s such a jolly little kitten we’re going to keep, you can’t think, Aunt Katharine,” he said; “as black as a coal all over.”
“And what does Maisie think?” said Aunt Katharine, turning to the little girl, who had not joined in her brother’s description. “Does she like it best too?”
Maisie’s round face became very pink, and she nervously crumbled up her cake, but said nothing.
“Would you rather keep the white one or the grey one, dear?” asked her aunt kindly. “I daresay Dennis would not mind. He shall choose next time.”
“We didn’t choose,” put in Dennis quickly; “we cast lots, so it’s quite fair. It’s only,” he continued, lowering his voice confidentially, “that she doesn’t like the others to be drowned.”
“Is that it, Maisie?” asked Aunt Katharine.