now sing."]

"Our voices don't _har-mer-lize_, pussy, I know they don't. You'll just
have to practise alone. That's what Mollie Merton's mamma said last
night when Uncle Harry and Aunt Vera sang together. She said: 'Oh, how
beautifully their voices _har-mer-lize_.' Now that's just what our
voices _don't_ do, so I'll put you right on to the keys, and you can
practise the _'comfrement_ alone."

Flossie ran to the window to see if any of her playmates were in
sight, while the kitten, left to amuse herself, walked slowly across the
keyboard, and sat down upon the lower bass notes.

The French maid paused in the doorway.

"Ah, it is the petite beast that the bad music makes. I will the feline
terrible remove, before she more mischief does do."

"Don't take the kitten out, Marie," cried Flossie, "I'm making her
practise her lesson."

"Eh, bien! In this great mansion where all do so much learning have,
even the petite cat must an education get! What more astounding could
one behold?"

"I want to make her learn the song Uncle Harry sang last night. Did you
hear him sing, Marie? Wasn't his voice sweet?"

"Ah, well did I the music hear. The sweet sounds did up the stairway
float, and I did say: 'He is one beau gallant! His voice the rock would