Cardboard hat-boxes are put in the different corners of the kitchen and the kittens are installed in them.  But this division turns out to be premature; the cat, still wearing an imploring and sentimental expression on her face, goes the round of all the hat-boxes, and carries off her children to their original position.

“The cat’s their mother,” observed Vanya, “but who is their father?”

“Yes, who is their father?” repeats Nina.

“They must have a father.”

Vanya and Nina are a long time deciding who is to be the kittens’ father, and, in the end, their choice falls on a big dark-red horse without a tail, which is lying in the store-cupboard under the stairs, together with other relics of toys that have outlived their day.  They drag him up out of the store-cupboard and stand him by the box.

“Mind now!” they admonish him, “stand here and see they behave themselves properly.”

All this is said and done in the gravest way, with an expression of anxiety on their faces.  Vanya and Nina refuse to recognise the existence of any world but the box of kittens.  Their joy knows no bounds.  But they have to pass through bitter, agonising moments, too.

Just before dinner, Vanya is sitting in his father’s study, gazing dreamily at the table.  A kitten is moving about by the lamp, on stamped note paper.  Vanya is watching its movements, and thrusting first a pencil, then a match into its little mouth. . . .  All at once, as though he has sprung out of the floor, his father is beside the table.

“What’s this?” Vanya hears, in an angry voice.

“It’s . . . it’s the kitty, papa. . . .”

“I’ll give it you; look what you have done, you naughty boy!  You’ve dirtied all my paper!”

To Vanya’s great surprise his papa does not share his partiality for the kittens, and, instead of being moved to enthusiasm and delight, he pulls Vanya’s ear and shouts: 

“Stepan, take away this horrid thing.”

At dinner, too, there is a scene. . . .  During the second course there is suddenly the sound of a shrill mew.  They begin to investigate its origin, and discover a kitten under Nina’s pinafore.

“Nina, leave the table!” cries her father angrily.  “Throw the kittens in the cesspool!  I won’t have the nasty things in the house! . . .”

Vanya and Nina are horrified.  Death in the cesspool, apart from its cruelty, threatens to rob the cat and the wooden horse of their children, to lay waste the cat’s box, to destroy their plans for the future, that fair future in which one cat will be a comfort to its old mother, another will live in the country, while the third will catch rats in the cellar.  The children begin to cry and entreat that the kittens may be spared.  Their father consents, but on the condition that the children do not go into the kitchen and touch the kittens.

After dinner, Vanya and Nina slouch about the rooms, feeling depressed.  The prohibition of visits to the kitchen has reduced them to dejection.  They refuse sweets, are naughty, and are rude to their mother.  When their uncle Petrusha comes in the evening, they draw him aside, and complain to him of their father, who wanted to throw the kittens into the cesspool.