EUNICE AND CRICKET WATCHING THE OTHER CHILDREN.
The children stopped by the brook and the older girls watched their proceedings with much interest from behind the hedge. The two nurses, both young girls, sat down on the grassy slope and began to talk, without noticing the little ones much. The brook was wide just there, and quite deep with recent rains. Overhanging willows lined its banks, and made it cool and shady.
The children opened their basket.
“What have they got there?” whispered Eunice, craning her neck, as Sylvie suddenly said,—
“Don’t open it yet. We must det some stits.”
Sticks abounded, and each child armed herself with a stout one. Then Sylvie lifted the cover, and took out four little squirming, week-old kittens, with their eyes still shut.
“Now,” directed Sylvie, eagerly, “you frow one in so. Oh, see it bob! frow in anovver one, Zaidee, and pote ’em down when zey turn up,”—and suiting the action to the word, she poked down the helpless little bobbing head of the unfortunate kitten.
“I’m afraid it hurts them,” said tender-hearted Helen.
“Oh, no, it doesn’t,” insisted Sylvie. “’Tause I heard mamma tell Dennis to drown zem her own self. Doesn’t hurt, really.”
And Helen, thus reassured, threw in the wretched little black kitten she held, and stood ready with her stick.