she might not know a kitten of hers from some 

 other mother's— squirrel? I was desperate in- 

 deed. Calico was a hunter. She had eaten 

 more gray squirrels, perhaps, than I had ever 

 seen. She would think I had been foraging for 

 her— the mother of seven green kittens!— and 

 would take my charges as titbits. Still I was 

 determined to try. 



My neighbor's kittens were enough and to 

 spare. One of Calico's last year's lot still waited 

 a good home ; and here were seven more to be 

 cared for. Might not two of these be spirited 

 away, far away ; the two squirrels substituted, 

 and the old cat be none the wiser? 



I went home by way of my neighbor's, and 

 found Calico in the basement curled up asleep 

 with her babies. She roused and purred ques- 

 tioningly as we bent over the basket, and 

 watched with concern, but with no anxiety, as 

 two of her seven were lifted out and put inside 

 a hat upon a table. She was perfectly used to 

 having her kittens handled. True, strange 

 things had happened to them. But that was 

 long ago ; and there had been so very many 

 kittens that no one mother could remember 

 [81] 



