But the sentence was never finished, for Kenneth had flown at him with all the confidence those trousers inspired,—it is wonderful to find how much more easily you can run in them,—and the boy dropped down behind a fence.
“I guess I’ll take a walk,” Kenneth thought, with becoming modesty. “I guess I’ll just take a walk around the block.”
“Round the block” was the extent of the distance he was allowed to go away from home by himself.
“I may meet some boys,” he added, trying not to keep looking down at his legs.
But he did not meet any boys, because they had all run to join a crowd that was gathering on another street. And Kenneth ran too, although he knew that it was much further than around the block; but his new trousers went as fast as they could, and so naturally he had to go with them.
The boys were looking up at a tree, and throwing things, and Kenneth caught his breath, as he heard a most un-bird-like “E-ow” from among the branches.
“Say, what color’d cat is it?” he asked of a ragamuffin, who was preparing to throw an ancient apple.
“Caliker cat,” said the boy. “Up there. See?” and he closed one eye to take aim.
“She ain’t calico. She’s tortoise-shell,” burst out Kenneth, turning red with delight. “She’s our Weejums, and I’m goin’ to take her home.”
“Oh, she’s your cat, is she?” asked the boy, dropping his apple and looking dangerous. “Your cat?—when we chased it up there? Well, I like that! Say, fellers, did you hear that? Your cat, is it? Huh, your cat! Calico cat! Tie up your teeth!”