"A dead fish," says Eddy.

He had never been known to relinquish voluntarily an idea.

"No; it was a little kitten," said the story-teller decidedly. "A
little white kitten. She was standing right near a big puddle of
water. Now, what else do you think I saw?"

"Another kitten," suggests Marantha, conservatively.

"No; it was a big Newfoundland dog. He saw the little kitten near the
water. Now, cats don't like water, do they? What do they like?"

"Mice," said Joseph Zukoffsky abruptly.

"Well, yes, they do; but there were no mice in my yard. I'm sure you
know what I mean. If they don't like _water_, _what_ do they like?"

"Milk," cried Sarah Fuller confidently.

"They like a dry place," said Mrs. R. B. Smith. "Now, what do you
suppose the dog did?"

It may be that successive failures had disheartened the listeners.
Itmay be that the very range of choice presented to them and the
dog alike dazzled their imagination. At all events, they made
no answer.

"Nobody knows what the dog did?" repeated the story-teller
encouragingly. "What would you do if you saw a little kitten