"It's as black as ink", said Dennis, lifting one of the kittens out of its warm bed in the hay; "there's not a single white hair upon it". "Madam's never had a quite black one before, has she?" said his sister Maisie, who knelt beside him, before the cat and her family. It was a snug and cosy home Madam had chosen for her children, in a dark corner of the hayloft, where she had hollowed out a sort of nest in the side of a truss of hay. Here she might well have fancied herself quite secure from discovery, for it was so dim and shadowy in the loft that it needed sharp eyes to see anything but hay and straw. She had forgotten, however, that it was one of Dennis.