To tell tales, or complain, or try to get another into trouble for any reason whatsoever was forbidden. The others had each in their turn accepted this doctrine as they accepted day and night, the sun and moon and stars. The Kitten had to be taught these things, and Ger it was who saw to it that she learned them. There was a law in the family that if any member of it, after enduring for a space a certain line of conduct from another, said, "_Please_ stop it," that person had to stop, or nemesis, by no means leaden-footed, overtook the offender. It took quite a long time to get it into the Kitten's head that it was a law. She had an extraordinarily loud and piercing cry when she was angry--a cry that penetrated to the sacred study itself, no matter where she might be in the house. One day when she was about three years old she was so naughty, so disobedient, so entirely unmanageable at nursery tea, that Nana, the long-suffering, fairly lost her temper. The Kitten placed the final stone on a pillar of wrongdoing by drawing patterns on the tablecloth with a long line of golden syrup dropped from a blob she had secured on her small finger, and Nana gave the chubby hand belonging to the finger a good hard smack. The Kitten opened her mouth and gave vent to a yell almost demoniacal in its volume and intensity. Mr Ffolliot, reading the _Quarterly Review_ in dignified seclusion, heard it in his study, was convinced that his youngest child was being tortured by the others, and hastened hot-foot to the nursery. Ger had his fingers in his ears. Nana, flushed and angry, stirred her tea pretending that she didn't hear; Thirza murmured pacific and wholly useless nothings. At her father's sudden and wholly unexpected appearance, accompanied as it was by the swift uprising of both the nurses, the Kitten stopped her clamorous vociferation, and with bunches of tears still hanging on her lashes smiled radiantly at the Squire, announcing with a wave of her sticky little hand. "'At's fahver." "What," Mr Ffolliot demanded angrily, "what in heaven's name has been done to that child to make her shriek like that? What happened?" "Miss Kitten, sir," Nana said slowly, "has not been very good at tea this afternoon." "But what made her shriek like that?" Mr Ffolliot continued--"a more alarming cry I never heard." "She smacked me," said the Kitten, glowering at Nana, "she 'urted me"; and at that moment she met Ger's eyes. The Kitten turned very red. "Who smacked you?" asked Mr Ffolliot unwisely. Ger stared at the Kitten, and the Kitten wriggled in her chair. "Say what _you_ did," muttered Ger, still holding his small sister in compelling gaze. Nana smiled. She had started with Grantly, and knew the family. "Fahver," said the Kitten in her most seductive tones, "take me," and she held out her arms.