“I wish every farm on the property was in such good order,” he said. “But we will go into the garden, and I dare say will find the farmer somewhere about, or perhaps his daughter can tell us where he is.”
As he spoke the squire opened the garden gate and passed down the walks, accompanied by John Temple and followed by two dogs. A little summer house stood on the path, and a moment later a pretty scrimmage ensued. A very handsome gray kitten was disporting itself at the entrance of the summer house, and at the sight of the avowed enemies of its race, the kitten prepared for battle. With tail erected and every hair on end, it stood to receive the charge it evidently expected. The dogs saw it, and with vicious yells ran forward, and the brave kitten’s moments had been numbered had not its mistress with a cry sprang forward from the interior of the summer house and caught it to her breast. The squire and John called back the dogs; the Mayflower protected her kitten, and then stood smiling and blushing to receive her visitors at the entrance of the summer house.
“Oh, Mr. Temple, your dogs frightened me so!” she said, as the squire offered her his hand.
“I am very sorry,” he answered, “but they have not touched your kitten, have they?”
“In another instant they would,” smiled the Mayflower, holding her pet tightly in her arms.
“What a pretty creature it is,” said John Temple, now stroking the kitten’s striped head, whose large eyes were wide open with terror.
“Yes, isn’t he a beauty?” answered the Mayflower. “Poor Jacky! and would the naughty dogs have eaten you?”
Jacky looked as if he decidedly thought that they would, and clung to his mistress’ white frock, who soothed and comforted him. The Mayflower certainly was a lovely creature as she stood thus, with her fair head uncovered. She had been sewing in the summer house; trimming a white straw hat, and ribbons and flowers lay strewn about, and as a man of taste John Temple found it impossible not to admire so pretty a picture.
“Is your father in the house?” now asked the squire.
“He was in the garden five minutes ago, looking at the apple trees,” replied the Mayflower. “Shall I call him, Mr. Temple?”