"I don't care about either," said Dennis; "they're just like lots and lots of other kittens, and they grow up like lots and lots of other cats. Now the black's uncommon." "I can't bear settling which is to be drowned," sighed Maisie. "I suppose we may really only keep one." "You're a ninny," said Dennis shortly. In reality he did not like to doom the kittens any better than his sister, but he would have thought it womanly to show his feelings. "I call it unfair," continued Maisie, stroking the white and grey kittens with her little brown hand, "to drown them just because they're not pretty. It's not as if they were bad." "But you _know_ we mustn't keep them all," said Dennis impatiently; "so what's the good of going on like that? We _must_ choose, and the black's the best, isn't it?" "Well, then," said Maisie reluctantly, "I think we ought to cast lots, so as to give them each a chance." This appealed to Dennis's sense of justice, and was besides the usual way of settling differences between his sister and himself. He pulled out three pieces of hay of different lengths, and holding them tightly shut in his hand, with the ends sticking out in an even row, said shortly, "You choose." "Which is which?" asked Maisie, her face getting pink with excitement. "The longest's the black, the middling's the white, and the shortest's the grey," said Dennis, with the calmness of fate. Maisie gazed at the little yellow ends of hay sticking out between her brother's stout red fingers, almost with terror. The old cat, with one paw thrown languidly over the black kitten, watched the proceedings carelessly. "I'll have this one!" exclaimed Maisie desperately, tugging at the middle piece. "Hurrah!" cried Dennis, as he opened his hand, and he threw up his cap exultingly; for it was the black kitten that was to live. "I'm just as sorry as I was before about the others," said Maisie wistfully; "but of course I _do_ like the black one best, and Madam seems proud of it too. What shall we call it?" "Nigger," said Dennis. Maisie looked doubtful. "That's not a very nice name," she said slowly. "I should like to call it Jonah, because, you see, the lot fell upon it." "Well, but, you silly thing," replied Dennis, "that just _wouldn't_ do, because Jonah _was_ drowned when the lot fell upon him, and the black kitten won't be." "He wasn't _drowned_," said Maisie, in a low impressive voice. "Well, worse. I'd rather have been drowned," said Dennis shortly; "anyhow, I don't like the name of Jonah. It ought to have something to do with its colour." "Do you think," said Maisie, looking with pity at the white and grey kittens, "that we need tell Tom to drown them _quite_ directly. Mightn't we leave them till to-morrow, and hear what Aunt Katharine says?" "She won't say anything different," said Dennis, with a decided shake of the head. "You know she made a rule. But we'll leave them if you like."