A few more hills were crossed, and uncle Benjamin was at home.
Aunt Abby stood smiling at the open door; but the boys met the carriage at the gate. They were in haste to see this dear little cousin who came but once a year.
Before Mr. Cary had hung up his dusty linen coat, Julia whispered,
“Papa, they have got kittens, four of them. Please ask if I may have one for my own self.”
Mr. Cary told aunt Abby how lonely Julia was at home without her mother; how for weeks her heart had been so sad she could hardly play at all. She was getting used to the stillness in the house, and the heartache was wearing away. But she wanted some live thing to play with, she said, and hoped to take home a real kitten.
“Poor little motherless girl!” sighed aunt Abby.
When called to tea, Julia came in smiling, with Charley and Johnny, who had been showing her their out-door pets.
After tea, Julia led her father to the old woodhouse stairway, where there was a more lowly kind of mother-love to be seen.
A large contented-looking cat lay on the door-step, winking fearlessly at them. The cunningest of four kittens was climbing on her back. Two prettier kittens were having a frolic at her feet, while the other one sat soberly looking on. Sometimes the wild ones rolled over and over each other down the steps.
“Did you ever see such lovely, pesshus kittens, papa dear?”