We had a cat, and the cat had had kittens a day or two before. Aunt Lizzie
came into the nursery, where Una and I were building houses of blocks, and sat
down in the big easy-chair. The cat was in the room, and she immediately came up
to my aunt and began to mew and to pluck at her dress with her claws. Such
attentions were rare on pussy's part, and my aunt noticed them with pleasure,
and caressed theanimal, which still continued to devote its entire attention to
her.But there was something odd in the sound of her mewing and in the intent
regard of her yellow eyes. "Can anything be the matter with pussy?" speculated
my aunt. At that moment my father entered the room, and my aunt rose to greet
him. Then the massacre was revealed, for she had been sitting upon the kittens.
Their poor mother pounced upon themwith a yowl, but it was too late. My dear
aunt was rather a heavy woman, and she had been sitting there fifteen minutes.
We all stood appalled in the presence of the great mystery.
Poor Aunt Lizzie. Just before relating this story, Julian had relayed an incident in which he had booted this well meaning but maladroit relative soundly in the stomach. This from Julian's Hawthorne and His Circle, chapter 1.