“Poor kitty,” mourned Jinnie.
She was thinking of the beautiful world, the trees and the flowers, and the wonderful songs of nature amidst which the dying animal had existed.
“I hope he’ll go to some nice place,” she observed sadly, walking away from Mrs. Grandoken.
Later, after cogitating deeply, Jinnie expressed herself to the cobbler.
“Lafe, Lafe dear,” she said, “it’s all true you told me, ain’t it?... All about the angels and God?... The poor kitty’s suffering awful. He’s got the Christ too, hasn’t he, Lafe?”
The man looked into the agonized young face.
“Yes, child,” he replied reverently, “he’s got the Christ too, same’s you an’ me. God’s in everything. He loves ’em all.”
That night the girl sat unusually long with paper and pencil. Just before going to bed she placed a paper on the cobbler’s knee.
“I wrote that hurt kitty some poetry,” she said shyly.
Lafe settled his spectacles on his nose, picked up the sheet, and read: