But at last she trotted downstairs, with Spot at her heels—Spot always waited for Dodo—and as the two of them passed the morning-room door, they both stopped.
Strange to say, Spot was quite as curious as Dodo. He sniffed at the door, and whined, and wagged his short stumpy tail violently to and fro. The little girl’s hand was on the handle of the door. Should she turn it? Surely one little peep couldn’t matter?
It always seemed to Dodo that the handle turned of its own accord. I don’t think it could have done so, but at any rate the door opened a little way, and out dashed a fluffy white kitten. In an instant Spot was after it, and chased it down the hall and out into the garden.
Dodo didn’t know what to do; she couldn’t very well run after Spot, because just at that moment Mary called her.
“Be quick, Dodo; Mother wants you,” she said. So Dodo went into the drawing-room feeling very guilty, and soon afterwards Spot came in, licking his lips.
“Had he eaten the kitten?” his mistress thought, but she didn’t dare say anything.
The next morning when Dodo came down to breakfast, she found all sorts of nice presents laid out beside her plate.
“They can’t be for me,” she said, but Mother kissed her and said:
“Yes, they are, my pet. You surely haven’t forgotten that it is your birthday? I am so sorry that I have no present for you, but yesterday I bought you a little white kitten and shut it up in the morning-room. Some one must have let it out, for we can’t find it anywhere.”