lady, I want you and the kittens to stay upstairs, for I am going to give
them away; besides, I want you to kill the mice which are getting into
everything up there. You may keep one of your children, however, for we
need two cats here."

Mother looked worried, but followed as he carried us up again. We remained
there after that and grew larger and more attractive, so that one by one
my brothers and sisters were given away, with the exception of Tom's
father (who stayed at home and lived on the fat of the land, to a good old
age).

Our childhood was bright and happy, for mother taught us many things and
brought us up well. I remember that there was a door leading from the rear
of the store into a garden. Sunny days mother would take us out and give
us lessons in natural history. She taught us not to kill or maim
song-birds, but said that we could kill and eat field mice or little blind
moles, although we never saw any of them. She warned us that bees and
wasps were too heating to the blood, and not to eat them, but if very
hungry, a grass-hopper was not to be sneezed at; positively no toads,
however. How we played in the garden, chasing the elusive sunbeams,
rolling over and over, and learning to box and jump! It all came to an end
too soon, however, for one day a very neat little girl came in and said
that her father, who was janitor in a grammar school, wanted a kitten,
because the mice were getting the best of him.

She picked me up and I knew at once that I should like her, as she was so
gentle (some children are very rough and squeeze one so hard).

Mr. Carver parted with me unwillingly, for, as he expressed it, "I was the
smartest one in the bunch." I said good-by to mother with tears in my