It was when Maida, a rarely beautiful Maltese, was about a year old that she became the mother of a collection of variegated little mongrel babies, with spotted fur of all sorts, except one, which was pure white. Maida was all mother, and very proud of this disreputably mixed progeny, but evidently especially pleased with the white one. Her preference for the milk-white blonde was plain, for she always picked this one out for extra care and scrubbing during the short time they were allowed to snuggle together in the nursery she had selected, which was a soap box tucked away in the back corner of the stable loft. But this is a cruel world for little unwelcome kittens and so it was destined that this shameful offspring should mysteriously disappear, and the natural instincts of Maida's big mother-heart be frustrated.

On the afternoon of the babies' third birthday, after only a short absence, the devoted mother came hurrying back in anxious care to the home box, to find nothing there but the thick straw bed. There were no little bunches of soft fur to feed and cuddle not even one left to save her suffering swelling breasts. No one told her why or where; simply the cruel fact remained that she was desolate, her home empty, and her babies gone. Her grief over this heartless depredation, so inhumanly human, was painful to witness. Frantically she called in long-drawn, wailing cadence for her babies, from morning till night, in an agonized search. Up stairs and down, in and out, her mournful meows echoed, until everyone knew of her trouble, and even the most unsympathetic were indignant over the cruelty of it.

All of a sudden Maida ceased her mourning and settled down into quiet, regular habits again. Everyone drew a sigh of relief at her serenity and peace, but her mistress, more curious than the rest, determined to know the cause of her resignation and followed her to the loft. What she found there sent the cold shivers down her spine, for, snuggled to the poor mother's babyless breasts, were four small, ugly, pinky-white ratlets, with long tails and eyes like a Chinaman's. The consoled mother looked up at her mistress with beating heart and eyes straining with such pleading human anxiety that there was no mistaking that they held a challenge. But she need not have feared for no one with any kind of feeling could have the heart to let anyone interfere a second time with Maida's arrangement of a family however grotesque her ideas were in this respect. Where these shocking substitutes for her own unpopular babies came from, where they were born and what had become of the rightful parent, no one but Maida will ever know, as they were the only descendants of this rather curious breed of rodents that were ever seen in all the country round. But Maida, the kidnapper, looked proudly upon them, doubtless as her one white offspring returned fourfold, and neither excused nor explained. If their advent was dark with a cruel deed, no one knew and no one felt that they had the right this time to deprive the aching breasts and perhaps a conscience-stricken heart of this compensation.

As the numerous rodents grew and began to take notice, they became quite troublesome to the anxious foster-mother, for they were wild little things, uncommonly healthy and uncommonly restless and rather fierce as well. Time proved however that they were the very best specimens of their kind, their baby coats bright and shining, their slim wee eyes clear, and their little noses alert with the most furious inquisitiveness. It was not long before the boldest of them could climb to the edge of the box on an investigating tour into the attractions of that little surrounding world of theirs, but Maida was ever on the alert, and in a twinkling would seize him and drop him in the box with a bump. Poor little ratlet would look scared to death and rather shaky, but Maida would gently lick him with her tongue, purring in the dulcet tones of a cooing dove, until she had him soothed.

The ratlets grew day by day into more independent and astonishing ways, and Maida's mistress decided that this rather frisky family had better be transferred to more commodious quarters. So the rather unique nursery and household was removed to a large empty room over the stable, where they could have plenty of room and still be confined. Mother-Maida, doubtless feeling that she had troubles enough before, did not appreciate this freedom of a wider range for her lively children, and would have been glad had her mistress been less generous. Now it required double the effort to keep her strange brood from the tempting space about, and her strenuous struggles to restrain them within the prescribed limits of the box were sometimes painful, but always very funny. At times, in a very frenzy at their confinement the small rodents would bound, all in a white streak, one after the other, over the edge of the box and all over the room. Then poor Maida's maternal excitement and her efforts to drive, carry or frighten them back to their home, made pandemonium, the ratlets running helter and skelter in all directions and Maida after them. Catching one, she would jump back into the box with it, leave it there and go for another, but before she could make a capture, the one she had left in the box would be scampering in gay frolic with the others.

This rather serious game for Maida of "in and out" would go on until her nervous system was a wreck and she was utterly exhausted. Finally realizing that her efforts to subdue her riotously indecent family were useless, she would drop breathless to the floor, stretch herself in a streak of sunshine near the box, and survey the incorrigible mites with disgust. No longer pursued, the fun ceased for the youngsters, and they would come to where she was having a little interval of peace, and nip and maul, challenging her into another contest, playing tag up and down her tail, and indulging in other tantalizing pastimes, until even her self-sacrificing, long-suffering patience could no longer endure, and she would indignantly shake every one of them off, spring to her feet with a contemptuous meow of impatience, and seek another place for relief. Then the apparently conscience-stricken little rascals would meekly come, one by one, anxious and conciliatory, humbly begging her notice, scrambling solicitously over her, and by and by the four tired-out white beggars would be sleeping quietly with their sharp little noses snuggled in the soft fur of her body, all love and forgiveness.

Although animal children are generally supposed to be much better behaved and to cause their mothers less anxiety than human children, this poor foster-mother was kept very busy disciplining and training her strangely troublesome family. She truly mothered them, not as adopted aliens, but as the real thing, and taught them the proper things kittens ought to do and ought not to do, with much vigor and many a box on the ear; for generally what the rodents wanted to do, seemed to be just the thing they should not do in the progress of their strange education.

One day the closet door having been left ajar, baby ratlets in their search for mischief, climbed way up to the ceiling and perched on the topmost strip that held the hanging hooks. Maida, on finding them so far above her reach, was painfully distressed, meowing and making the greatest kind of a commotion in trying to scramble up the smooth wall to their rescue, as she thought. The ratlets seemed to be heartlessly indifferent to her anxiety and had to be driven from their lofty roost by the mistress. The first one to land on the floor was grabbed by the enraged cat and given such a shaking that he wobbled about in dizzy unconsciousness for several minutes. The next one she caught with a firm paw, as he was scurrying back to the box, hoping to escape his punishment, and held him tight to the floor, in spite of his whimpering protest, till he was quite still. This one lay for a long time as if dead, but after a while he slowly lifted his giddy, swimming head and crawled patiently and sorrowfully back to his bed, and never again did any of these naughty babies attempt to break this strange law of a strange mother, by climbing in the closet.

Once a window of this room was lowered from the top, just a tiny way for air. Maida's mistress, happening to be in the barn, heard a great meowing and disturbance going on in their room overhead and rushed up to find her beloved cat racing about like mad, apparently frantic with grief and not a ratlet in sight. The lady was very much puzzled over this total disappearance of all four of the ratlets and imagined all sorts of things, even the worst, and started in to investigate. In her search, she happened to glance out of the window and there on the roof were the whole bunch, plainly going mad in their unusual freedom. The weather was splendid and they were all out enjoying it, jumping and running on the separating wall in mad frolic, apparently just for the sake of falling back in somersaults on the roof, scuffling and doing all sorts of nimble acrobatics in reckless stunts, and surely making the most of their glorious holiday in the sunshine. The window was no sooner raised from the bottom, giving Maida a chance, than she dashed out like a flash, plainly determined on revenge. The instant the naughty runaways caught sight of her, they could not get back into the room and their box quickly enough; they raced for their very lives, stumbling and knocking each other over in their eagerness to get there, fairly shivering in their fright. Maida selected one poor pink-eyed, trembling sprinter for a thorough shaking and let the others profit by his sorrowful example, saving herself further exercise.

The ratlets lived to be independent, well-behaved grown-ups, with wonderfully polished and silky coats, owing to their frequent and thorough grooming by their faithful foster-mother, who seemingly never grew weary of her maternal duties or their companionship. They were great successes as rats, though doubtless Maida had her own interior disappointment and cat wonder as to why, with such faithful bringing up, they were not animals of a more comforting nature. Now she has real babies of her own, and this time there is no mistake, for their fur is pure Maltese, so her mother instincts have been allowed legitimate vent. Her alien foster-children have the freedom of the whole country and, owing to their strange adoption and the zeal with which they were brought up in the way good kittens ought to go, they seem irreproachable in behavior.

A MEMORY