“The poor little creature,” murmured Mrs. Martin.
“Let me have her—she’s my pussy!” demanded Trouble.
He wanted her in the bunk with him, but his mother said the wet fur of the pussy would make the sheets damp.
“I’ll dry her off and give her some milk, and then you may have her, William,” she said.
The little cat, warm and almost dry, was soon purring contentedly in William’s arms and going to sleep with him, after lapping up some warm milk, for Mrs. Martin, now that the boat was not pitching and tossing, had lighted the gasoline stove.
Ted and Jan looked in at the sight of the stray pussy that had come to their little brother out of the storm.
“Isn’t he cute!” murmured Jan.
“Who?” asked Ted, for she was looking at her little brother and the cat—both asleep now.
“They’re both cute,” whispered Jan.
The remainder of the night passed quietly, and when morning came the storm had passed and the river and lake gleamed in the sunshine.