"It was he who put the idea into my head."
Hilary came to sit beside her sister on the step. "Paul, I've a feeling that there is something—up! And it isn't the barometer!"
"Where did you get it?"
"From you."
Pauline sprang up. "Feelings are very unreliable things to go by, but I've one just now—that if we don't hunt Impatience up pretty quick—there will be something doing."
They found Patience sitting on the barn floor, utterly regardless of her white frock. A whole family of kittens were about her.
"Aren't they dears!" Patience demanded.
"Mrs. Boyd says I may have my choice, to take home with me," Hilary said. The parsonage cat had died the fall before, and had had no successor as yet.
Patience held up a small coal-black one. "Choose this, Hilary! Miranda says a black cat brings luck, though it don't look like we needed any black cats to bring—"
"I like the black and white one," Pauline interposed, just touching
Patience with the tip of her shoe.