"Jerry! In the barn! What do you mean?" exclaimed Mrs. Chapman. And she looked so puzzled and frightened that Jerry could not keep it up any longer.
"It's the cats, ma'am," he said; "them cats of Johnny's from Mr. Wellington's: all of 'em. The men to the station said there was forty; but I don't think there's more 'n twenty; mebbe not so many 's that; they're rowin' round so, you can't count 'em very well."
"Oh, dear! oh, dear!" said Mrs. Chapman. "What won't Frank Wellington do next!" Then she found her mother, and told her, and they both went out to the barn to look at the cats. Jerry lifted up one of the slats so that he could put in a pail of milk for them; and as soon as they saw friendly faces, and heard gentle voices, and saw the milk, they calmed down a little, but they were still terribly frightened. Grandma Jameson could not help laughing, but she was not at all pleased.
"I think Frank Wellington might have been in better business," she said. "We do not want any more cats here; the winter is coming, when they must be housed. What is to be done with the poor beasts?"
"Oh, we'll give most of them away, mother," said Mrs. Chapman. "They're all splendid kittens; anybody'll be glad of them."
"I do not think thee will find any dearth of cats in the village; it seems to be something most families are supplied with: but thee can do what thee likes with them; they can't be kept here, that is certain," replied Mrs. Jameson placidly, and went into the house.
Mrs. Chapman and Jerry decided that the cats should be left in the box till morning, and the children should not be told until then of their arrival.
When Mrs. Chapman was putting Johnny and Rosy to bed, she said,—
"Johnny, if Uncle Frank should send your cats over here, you would have to make up your mind to give some of them away. You know, Grandma couldn't keep them all!"
"What makes you think he'll send them over?" cried Johnny. "He didn't say he would."