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"Mieu, mieu!" chimed in Mitz's sisters, while little Hannah trotted desperately, and the doll's cradle was rocked as if by a small tempest. "It's no use," said little Hannah, in great perplexity; "all people's children arn't always bad! Mitz you wicked Mitz!" And she shook that badly-behaved child. "He's been crying ever since we began to play.
But now it was growing dark in the big, bare room, and you had to look closely into the back of the hearth to see the two little figures one trotting the baby, and the other rocking the doll's cradle in which two of Mitz's sisters were tied with cord, for their good, of course. But Mitz's piteous cries raised echoes. "Mieu, mieu!" cried Mitz, trying to claw something under the pillow case.
"Why why yes," Max acknowledged, wrathfully, with a futile kick at Mitz's mother, who was purring about his legs. "There, you mean thing, you're always trying to find out something! Just you wait till I tell yer anything more!" he cried, and slam-banged himself out of the room, with his bosom full of suppressed injuries. "He was mad because we guessed," Liseke cried, joyfully. "A piano!"
She was elegantly dressed in a bed-sheet, which trailed behind her and was gracefully tied under her chin. Mitz's mother followed, stretching all-fours luxuriously. No, Max wouldn't tell. He plunged two black hands in his breeches' pockets and made up faces and danced a wild war dance, while Mitz and family fled into various corners. "Why don't you slap him?" pouted Liseke.
Therefore was it a wonder that Mitz howled most dolefully? It is not necessary to say that Mitz was a kitten. Mitz's mother was sitting in a corner of the fire-place, with tail neatly curled about her paws. Three of Mitz's brothers and sisters were lost somewhere in the shadow about her, and two others the children had put to bed.
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