scattering with her mischief. Now she must be good--very good--else
the fox spirit would come upon her, and she would go through life an
unhappy soul. She would give more obedience to the honorable mother,
whose every word had been a caress. It was as if for the first time
the great book of life opened before her and, though unconscious of
its meaning, the first word she saw spelled Duty.

The noises from the house grew fainter. The child, with blinking eyes,
lay gazing straight above her. Overhead the branches overflowed into a
canopy of crimson, which shut out the great real world and opened into
a fairy world wherein only the untried feet of youth may tread and the
fragile flowers of child-dreams bloom. The gates thereto are slight
but strong, and only knowledge erects an impassable barrier.

The wind sang its lullaby through the blossoms of the tree, and sleep
would soon have overtaken Yuki Chan had not a peculiar sound aroused
her and caused her eyes to fly wide open. Once before she had heard
it, and it had meant death to the big robin who lived in the branches
above. The cry came from the mother bird this time and brought Yuki
Chan to her feet.

Through the shower of blossoms, brought down by the mad fluttering of
wings, she saw a tiny half-feathered thing struggling in the sharp
claws of her lately acquired pet. With certainty of success, the cat
let its victim weakly flutter an inch or two away, then reaching out a
cruel paw drew it back. Twice repeated, the green eyes narrowed to
slits, and Yuki Chan, horrified, saw big red drops slowly dripping
from either side of the whiskered mouth. Terror held her for a moment
as she heard the crunching of small bones, then white passion
enveloped her as she stole noiselessly from behind and closed her two