THE HOUSE OF THE GRANDMOTHERS.

_CHAPTER I.—The Baby’s Danger._

[Illustration: THE OLD WHITE MANSION.]

There was a day in her baby-life that little Mary Ellen always spoke of

as “my first day.”

“It was when I was a little crib-baby, a little bye-o-baby, you know,”

Mary Ellen would say.

Mary Ellen meant it was the first day she could remember.

She remembered it by two things—it was the first time she ever heard her

pretty mama scream, and the first time she ever got her little hands into

the fur of a cat.

Mary Ellen was in her crib, in the pretty baby-room of the big white

mansion, called “The House of the Grandmothers.” A pink rosebush was

growing in a blue-and-white pot, a yellow canary hung in the window,

and the sunshine was streaming in over everything. Mary Ellen was lying

awake, looking at the pretty window, when all at once something made her

turn her eyes.

There, on the foot-rail, sat some beautiful, furry, bright-eyed

creatures, looking at her, and making the most lovely noise. She smiled

at them, saying, “goo-goo-goo.” At that, one of them hopped down on the

quilt, then came closer, blinking its green eyes and still making the

lovely noise. Mary Ellen’s tiny body gave a quick little spring, and—O,

delightful!—her hands grabbed into the soft warm fur of a kitty.

Then came the scream, and mama with it, both through the open door.

“Dick! mercy! come quick! scat! scat!”

Not only papa came, but the two grandmamas and one of the

great-grandmothers, all four looking scared.

“They were right on the foot-rail of her crib—the three tiger-cats,”

gasped mama, “and one had jumped down on her! I don’t much think they’ve

scratched her, but they might have—just think of it, Dick!”

Papa Dick smiled. “Awful!” said he. “No doubt, Nan, they came in

purposely to eat your baby up!”

The grandmothers smiled too. “Nan! as if our cats would hurt Mary Ellen!”

said the youngest grandmother.

“Well, you can all laugh,” said Mama Nan, “but I think six cats are much

too many in a house where there’s a baby.”

[Illustration: THE TIGER CATS.]

“Six cats _is_ rather many,” laughed papa, “but then there are six

grandmothers, too, you know, to keep them off.”

_Ella Farman Pratt._

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