“But Faith will be very sorry if it doesn’t happen again,” replied Aunt Prissy. “Can she not run in and see Louise while I settle with you for the shoes?”
The shoemaker looked at her sharply for a moment, and then motioned Faith to follow him, leading the way across the shop toward a door on the further side of the room. The shop occupied the front room of the shoemaker’s house. The two back rooms, with the chambers above, was where Louise and her father made their home.
Mr. Trent opened the door and said: “You’ll find her in there,” and Faith stepped into the queerest room that she had ever seen, and the door closed behind her. Louise was standing, half-hidden by a clumsy wooden chair. The shawl was still pinned about her shoulders.
“This ain’t much like your aunt’s house, is it? I guess you won’t ever want to come again. And my father says I can’t ever go to see you again. He says I don’t look fit,” said Louise.
But Faith’s eyes had brightened, and she was looking at the further side of the room and smiling with delight. “Oh, Louise! Why didn’t you tell me that you had a gray kitten? And it looks just like ‘Bounce,’” and in a moment she had picked up the pretty kitten, and was sitting beside Louise on a roughly made wooden seat, telling her of her own kitten, while Louise eagerly described the cleverness of her own pet.
“What’s its name?” asked Faith.
“Just ‘kitten,’” answered Louise, as if surprised at the question.
“But it must have a real name,” insisted Faith, and it was finally decided that it should be named “Jump,” the nearest approach to the name of Faith’s kitten that they could imagine.
The floor of the room was rough and uneven, and not very clean. There was a table, the big chair and the wooden seat. Although the morning was chilly there was no fire in the fireplace, although there was a pile of wood in one corner. There was but one window, which looked toward the lake.
“Come out in the kitchen, where it’s warm,” suggested Louise, after a few moments, and Faith was glad to follow her.