The name of my kitten is Breezy. I gave her that name because she is never quiet. When she cannot frolic, she mews; but, as she is frolicking all the time when she is not asleep, she does not make much of an outcry, after all.

It has been the height of Breezy's ambition to catch a mouse. The other day, I was sitting in my little arm-chair, studying my spelling-lesson, when what should come forth from under the cupboard but a wee mouse not much bigger than the bowl of a teaspoon.

Breezy, for a wonder, was asleep on the rug. Mousie looked around, as if in search of some crumbs. I put down my book, and kept very still. Which did I favor in my heart,—Mousie, or Breezy?

To tell the truth, my sympathies were divided. The little bright-eyed mouse was so cunning and swift, that I thought to myself, "What a pity to kill such a bright little fellow!" But then I knew how disappointed poor Breezy would be, if she should wake, and learn somehow that a mouse had run over the floor while she was indulging in inglorious slumber.

Out came mousie quite boldly, and, finding some crumbs under the table, nibbled at them in great haste. Poor little fellow, if I had had a bit of cheese, I should have been tempted to give it to him, there and then.

But, all at once, Breezy woke, and saw what was going on. Mousie, however, had not been so stupid, while making his meal, as not to keep one eye open on his enemy. Quick as a flash he ran for the little crack that led under the cupboard, and thus made his escape.

Poor Breezy! She seemed really ashamed of herself. She had her nose at that crack a full hour after mousie had escaped. It seemed as if she could not get over her disappointment. Every day since then she has patiently watched the cupboard. Will mousie give her another chance? That remains to be seen.