“I don't know any bloody Indian story, and I wouldn't tell one if I did,” said Nannie in her abrupt, decisive way.
“I won't listen, then,” pouted Jim.
“Very well. You may go to Kamchatka if you like. Mamie and I are going to have a kitty story.”
Mamie cuddled up to Nannie, while Master Jim stalked out of the room. It was observed, however, that he was not above taking up a squatter's claim in the hall and listening through the crack of the door.
“Once upon a time,” Nannie began in the old way so fascinating to children—“once upon a time there lived a dear little kitty.”
Just at this point the front door opened and Mr. Earnest walked in. Now, Nannie had never fancied this gentleman, and to-night, as she noted his glowering look, she felt a savage desire to annoy him.
“Hello, chick,” he said, brusquely In answer to little Mamie's greeting. “Good-evening, Nannie,” he added, taking out his paper and seating himself.
As he did so Mrs. Earnest came into the room. She always seemed ill at ease in her husband's presence, though she strove to appear the contrary.
“Why, good-evening, dear,” she began. “Are you home?”
“No, I'm not,” he said roughly. “Can't you see?”