“Isn’t he the cunningest little thing that ever was?” demanded Tess, clapping her hands. Dot was so greatly moved that she had to sit down and just watch the black and white kitten. She could not speak for happiness, at first, but when she did speak, she said:
“Isn’t it nice that there’s such things as kittens in the world? I don’t s’pose they are useful at all till they’re cats, but they are awfully pretty!”
“Isn’t she the little, old-fashioned thing?” murmured Mrs. Adams.
Tess and Dot were very much at home and the kittens were curled up in the basket again in apparent contentment, when Agnes returned.
She had Sandy-face in a sack, and it was just about all Agnes could do to carry the cat without getting scratched again. For Sandy’s claws came through the flimsy bag, and she knew not friend from foe in her present predicament.
“I declare! I had no idea cats had so little sense,” Agnes sighed, sitting down, quite heated. “Wouldn’t you think she’d be glad to be taken to a good home—and with her kittens, too?”
“Maybe we wouldn’t have any more sense if we were being carried in a sack,” said Tess, thoughtfully.
“Well!” exclaimed Aggie. “She knew enough to go back to Mr. Stetson’s store, that’s sure. He had to catch her for me, for Myra was out. He says we’ll have to watch her for a few days, but I don’t believe she’d have left her kittens if that bad Sam Pinkney hadn’t come along with his dog—do you, Mrs. Adams?”
“No, deary. I think she’ll stay with the kittens all right,” said the old lady, comfortingly.
“Well, let’s go on home, girls,” said Agnes, rising from the step. “We’ve bothered Mrs. Adams long enough.”