"Well， I don't know， miss； do you suppose your Father could spare me？" and Patrick thought a little regretfully of the dollar and a half he would insist upon foregoing if he took a day off， but at the same moment he berated himself soundly for having such an ungenerous thought."Indade， miss， if you'll manage for me to have the day I'll gladly stay to home to make ye welcome.""Then it's settled， Patrick， and we'll make it the very first day Papa can spare you." The had raked down， while they had been having this conversation， to close proximity to two pretty rows of apple-trees that had been left on the front lawn， a reminder of the farm that "used to be，" and the sight of the trees brought a troubled look into Tattine's face."Patrick，" she said ruefully， "do you know that some of the nests in these trees have been robbed of their eggs？ Four or five of them are empty now.Have you an idea who could do such a thing？""Yes， I have an idea，" and Patrick rested his hands upon the handle of his rake and looked significantly towards the barn； "somebody who lives in the barn， I'm thinkin'.""Why， Joseph would not do it， nor Philip the groom， and little Joey is too small to climb these trees.""It's something smaller than Joey， miss.Whisht now， and see if she's not up to mischief this minute."Tattine's little black-and-white kitten， whose home was in the barn， had been frisking about her feet during all the raking， but as the raking came under the apple-trees， other thoughts came into her little black-and-white head， and there she was stealthily clawing her way up the nearest tree.Tattine stood aghast， but Patrick's "whisht" kept her still for a moment， while the cat made its way along one of the branches.Tattine knowing well the particular nest she was seeking， made one bound for her with her rake， and with such a scream as certainly to scare little Black-and-white out of at least one of the nine lives to which she is supposed to be entitled.But pussy was too swift and swiftly scrambled to the very topmost twig that would hold her weight， while Tattine danced about in helpless rage on the grass beneath the tree."Tattine is having a fit，" thought little Black-and-white， scared half to death and quite ready to have a little fit of her own， to judge from her wild eyes and bristling tail.
Tattine's futile rage was followed in a few minutes by， "Oh， Patrick， I never dreamt it was Kittie.Has SHE been TRAINED to do it， do you think？""Oh.no， miss； it just comes natural to cats and kittens to prey upon birds and birds' nests.""Patrick，" said Tattine solemnly， "there is not going to be any four-legged thing left for me to love.I am done with Betsy and Doctor， and now I'm done with Black-and-white.I wonder if Mamma can make it seem any better，" and then she turned her steps to the house in search of comfort， but she had gone only half-way when the coachman， who was waiting at the door with the little grey mare and the phaeton， motioned to her to come quietly.Tattine saw at a glance what had happened， and sped swiftly back to Patrick."Keep Black-and-white up the tree，" she said， in a breathless whisper； "don't let her go near the nest， and don't let her come down for the world.The little Phoebe-birds have lit.""All right， miss，" not at all understanding the situation， but more than willing to obey orders.Tattine was in such haste to get back to the house that she hardly heard his answer.What she had tried to tell him was that the five little fledglings， crowded into the tiny nest under the eaves of the porch， had taken it into their heads to try their first flight at that precise moment， and there they were perched on the shafts of the phaeton， lighting， as it seemed， on the first thing they came to， while the father and mother birds were flying about in frantic anxiety to see them in such a perilous situation.
How could those tiny little untrained claws keep their hold on that big round， slippery shaft， and if the carriage started down they would surely go under the wheels or under the feet of that merciless little grey mare.But the little fledglings were in better hands than they knew， for， with the exceptions of Betsy， Doctor， and Black-and-white， every living thing at Oakdene was kind to every other living thing.
"Whoa， girlie； whoa， girlie，" had been Patrick's quieting words to Lizzie， and then when Tattine came hurrying that way he had motioned her to come quietly for fear of frightening them.Then， as you know， Tattine flew to make sure that treacherous Black- and-white was kept close guarded， and then back she fl噖 again to the aid of the little birds themselves.Softly she drew nearer and nearer， saying over gently， "Whoa， Lizzie！ dear little birdies！" until she came very near and then she put out one hand towards them.That was enough for the fledglings.Refreshed by their rest on the shafts， they flapped their tiny wings and fluttered up to the anxious mother bird on the branches above them， wholly unconscious that they had been in any peril whatsoever.
"And Black-and-white would have killed them， every one， if she had had the chance，" thought Tattine； "oh， if I only knew how to teach her a lesson！"
