"Tell another story," said Mary. "Ah, do!"
How we laughed—their mother and I—softly to ourselves, when Mary asked Sarah for more stories; Sarah laughed too, and was just going to begin another, when the mother said it was time to go. So I bid her good-by, and sent my kind regards to Mr. Ewer, the dear little childrens' father—who is a minister, and one of the best men in the whole world; because he is never tired of working for God. Great crowds of people go to hear him preach, and his constant prayer is: that he may bring them all, old and young, to the feet of the Blessed Jesus.
I was very sorry to have those sweet little pets go so soon, because I wanted to talk to them myself; but, of course, they must mind their mother; and I never tease any one to stay. It is not polite; so I kissed them heartily, and went with them to the front door.
The wind blew sharply in my face, and I said, "You dear little kits! I'm glad you are not made of sugar candy; you would snap all to pieces such a cold day! but here, what is this? where in the world is your mitten?"
There was the darling little Charlotte, standing in the cold, with only one white mitten on.
"Why dear me!" exclaimed her mother, "what have you done with it?"
Then the cunning precious pet laughed out merrily, and turning her sweet face up to us, with the funniest little twist of her eye, lisped out:
"I a ittie kitten,
I loss my mitten."
We both burst out laughing—we could not help it; but her mother, smoothing the smiles almost away, made believe to be the kittens' mother, and cried out:
"Lost your mitten?
Oh you naughty little kitten!
Now you can't have any pie."