A bright light streamed out of the cabin window, beckoning the lad to approach. Before going around to the door, he glanced in, and was truly amazed at the pretty sight that he saw. His sisters were preparing the evening meal, Dixie at the stove and Carol placing on the table the best kept-for-company dishes. This, however, was not what amazed the boy, for he often beheld a similar scene when he returned home after dark. The unusual part of the picture was the small girl who sat on a low stool, holding two kittens, one snow-white and one spotted with black. The watchful mother-cat was lying on the bear-skin rug near by.
Ken actually blinked his eyes hard, and then opened them wide again to reassure himself that he was not dreaming. Could that smiling little girl be the disagreeable and unwelcome guest of but eight hours before? It was indeed Sylvia. She had awakened from her nap that afternoon greatly refreshed, and had been eager to again ride upon the mouse-colored burro. This time she had declared that she was not afraid to ride alone, and so the little hostess, after starting her down the road toward the apple-orchard, had returned to her task in the kitchen, but often she had looked out of the window, when Sylvia, with a merry halloo, had announced that she was returning.
So courageous did the small girl become that one time she had actually urged Pegasus to canter, and then, as she rode past the open door, her shout had been one of triumph. Dixie, skipping to answer the call, had been glad indeed to see that the pale face of their little guest was flushed with excitement and real pleasure. When at last Sylvia, weary but happy, had entered the kitchen, she had exclaimed, as she sank down in the big chair, “That was the best fun I ever had in my whole life!”
In the heart of Dixie there had been a prayer of gratitude because dear old Grandma Piggins’s pretend-game had been such a success, but of this she said nothing. “I’m glad, dear,” had been her quiet reply; “you may ride every day if you wish, while you are with us.”
Then, when Carol came home from school, Sylvia had at once said that she wished she could have the snow-white kitten. Almost unconsciously Carol had asked herself the question, “What would I do if I really loved Sylvia?” In a burst of generosity which delighted as much as it surprised Dixie, the small girl replied almost at once, “You may have Downy-Fluff for your very own pussy if—if you’d like to.”
Then the unexpected happened. The little guest, perhaps for the very first time in her short life, considered some one else’s wishes. “Why, Carol Martin,” she exclaimed, “your sister Dixie said you loved that pussy so much you wouldn’t want to give it away.”
“I do love Downy-Fluff,” the other little girl had replied.
“Then why did you say that I could have her for keeps?” To the small girl who had never had an unselfish impulse, this act was incomprehensible.
“Because I want to make you happy, Sylvia,” had been the quiet reply.
Then, before more could be said, Carol had announced that she was going out to the shed and bring Topsy and her pussy-babies into the cabin.