their soft purr-r-r-r, purr-r-r-r had first changed into sleepy little
snores, and then died away altogether, Mrs. Chinchilla jumped down out
of the window, and went for her morning airing in the back yard. At
the same time the druggist passed behind a tall desk to mix some
medicine, and the shop was left alone.

Just then the Boy (for he hadn't gone away at all; he had just stooped
out of sight) rushed in the door quickly, snatched one of the kittens
out of the round ball, and ran away with it as fast as he could run.
Pretty soon Mrs. Chinchilla came back, and of course she counted the
kittens the very first thing. She always did it. To her surprise and
fright she found only two instead of three. She knew she couldn't be
mistaken. There were five kittens in her last family, and two less in
this family; and five kittens less two kittens is three kittens. One
chinchilla catkin gone! What should she do?

She had once heard a lady say that there were too many cats in the
world already, but she had no patience with people who made such
wicked speeches. Her kittens had always been so beautiful that they
sometimes sold for fifty cents apiece, and none of them had ever been
drowned.

Mrs. Chinchilla knew in a second just where that kitten had gone. It
makes a pussy-cat very quick and bright and wise to take care of and
train large families of frisky kittens, with very little help from
their father in bringing them up. She knew that that Boy had carried
off the kitten, and she intended to have it back, and scratch the Boy
with some long scratches, if she could only get the chance. Looking at
her claws, she found them nice and sharp, and as the druggist opened
the door for a customer Mrs. Chinchilla slipped out, with just one