A day or two later, Archibald coming home from a morning’s painting found Pegeen with something on her mind.
After a little it came out.
“Do you like kittens, Mr. Archibald?” she asked with elaborate casualness.
“Oh, so-so.” He was absorbed in cleaning his pipe.
“I think it’s awful to drown them, don’t you?”
He caught the note of anxiety in her voice and looked at her quickly.
“Miss Moran does too,” she urged in defense of her position. “Maybe she’d take it if you don’t want me to have it, but I’d like to doctor its eyes first. It’ll be lovely when its eyes are well—and the boys had a piece of fish line and a stone. They thought it was fun. I flew right at Benny Crocker and slapped him—as hard as ever I could—and he was so surprised he dropped the kitten and then I grabbed it up—and I always did want to slap Benny anyway. If I’d been a boy I’d have licked him long ago and I don’t see why being a girl—only of course long hair’s handy to pull—but they didn’t get a chance to-day. I can run as fast as any boy, if I do have skirts. It’s gray with one white paw. I think you’d like it, if its eyes weren’t sore. I’m putting boric acid in them. That’s what the doctor gave Mrs. Neal for hers when they were red and hurt her and she loaned me some.”
“What does Wiggles say about it?” Archibald asked gravely.
Pegeen giggled.
“I wouldn’t dare tell you,” she said. “He swore. Honestly he did—dog swearing anyhow—but when he found I liked the kitten, he quieted down and now he just laughs when the spunky little thing spits at him. I do love a dog that has a long nose so he can laugh, don’t you? I wouldn’t have one of those snub-nosed, sulky looking dogs for anything—unless it was sick or something and needed to be taken care of.”