"Quite, my dear," the brindled cat replied. She was a very handsome cat, and in very comfortable circumstances. She sat on a warm Turkey carpet, and wore a blue satin ribbon round her neck. "I am in the ninth life myself," she said.
"Have you lived all your lives here?"
"Oh dear, no!"
"Were you here," the white kitten asked, in a sleepy voice, "when the Turkey carpet was born? Rover says it is only a few months old."
"No," said the mother, "I was not. Indeed, it was partly the softness of that carpet that made me come and live here."
"Where did you live before?" the black kitten said.
A dreamy look came into the brindled cat's eyes.
"In many strange places," she answered slowly; adding more briskly, "and if you will be good kittens, I will tell you all about them. Goldie! come down from that stool, and sit down like a good kitten. Sweep! leave off sharpening your claws on the furniture; that always ends in trouble and punishment. Snowball! you're asleep again! Oh, well; if you'd rather sleep than hear a story——"
Snowball shook herself awake, and the others sat down close to their mother with their tails arranged neatly beside them, and waited for the story.
"I was born," said the brindled cat, "in a barn."