"Yes, I drowned her, myself," declared Mrs. Emmit. "She's been ailing around the house too long. It ain't good for you, children, to be mauling sick cats," and with this practical dismissal of the fact, she lead the way into the house, her visitor, husband, and children, following.
But Betty lingered behind, unnoticed. For a moment she stood, pale and defiant, then, swift as a fawn, she ran around the house and started the search for her dead kitten.
"Pussy dead! pussy dead!" she muttered to herself in anguish, and the tears came thick and fast, as she looked for her dead pet.
At last, in some tall grass, she discovered it, lying cold and wet.
"O, my baby! My darling baby!" she moaned piteously; "to think that I was away and couldn't save you!"
But kitty did not purr in answer, as was her custom, when her mistress talked to her.
Piteously, Betty looked down at the dead thing. It was ugly and she shuddered.
"My darling Tinkey! How ugly death has made you!" Then, a sudden thought brought a quick smile to the downcast countenance. "But, Tinkey, this isn't really you! Where are you, Tinkey, where are you? This is only your body. Your body will be res'rected some day, won't it, Tinkey? I'll bury it all nice for you, an' you can look on though I can't see you any more. O, Tinkey, I'll never see you any more!" and again the smile vanished, and the little face puckered up.
Slowly the child made her way to a large tree some distance from the house, behind the barn.
She laid the kitten under shelter and then retraced her steps mournfully, back to the kitchen door.