At the door of the Duval shack, Jeanne stumbled over something—a large basket with the cover fastened down tight. Jeanne carried it inside and lifted the cover. It contained four small kittens and a bottle of milk. A card hung from the neck of the bottle. On it was printed:
"We got no Mother. From BARNEY."
"Drat him," said the Captain, "them kittens'll keep you awake."
"Not if I feed them," returned Jeanne. "Of course I shall still love Bayard Taylor, but after all, kittens are a lot more cuddle-y than snails. I'm so glad Barney thought of them. They're dear—such a pretty silvery gray with white under their chins. I do hope they'll find me a nice mother."
By the time the kittens were fed and asleep, Jeanne, who had certainly spent an exhausting day, was no longer able to keep her eyes open.
CHAPTER XXII
ROGER'S RAZOR
"This here is Saturday," said Old Captain, at breakfast time. "Our cupboard is pretty bare of bacon, potatoes, and things like that. I'll go up town after the fodder. Then this afternoon, me and you'll go to see Mollie. Most ginerally I takes her somethin'—fruit like, or a bouquet—old Mrs. Schmidt gives me a grand bunch for a quarter. It's quite a walk to that there hospital, so don't you go a-tirin' of yourself out doin' too much work; but I sure did enjoy my room last night—all clean an' ship-shape."
"Wait till tonight!" said Jeanne. "You'll have sheets!"