“What have you got, Bobby?” shrieked Dot. “Bobby, what’s in the bag?”
“You needn’t tell the neighborhood,” Bobby said a little crossly, for he was tired, “but kittens are in it.”
“Kittens!” Twaddles shouted, leaping ahead to spread the news.
“Mother!” he called, racing into the house. “Oh, Mother, come and see the kittens Bobby has in a bag!” 149
Mother Blossom and Aunt Polly and Norah came into the hall and Bobby sat down on the rug, with Meg and the twins almost on top of him.
“They’re four,” he explained as he began to untie the string that was knotted around the bag. “Charlie Black was going to drown them for Mr. Fritz, but he said Meg could have them. Maybe they are pretty.”
He turned down the bag and a black kitten walked out. Then a gray and white one. Then a yellow one and next a striped “tiger” kitten.
Norah started to laugh.
“Four, is it?” she giggled. “Then I must be seeing double, Bobby, for there’s six already and––yes, here’s another––that makes seven!”
Well, there they were––seven kittens, none especially fat and none especially pretty, all “just kittens,” as Twaddles named them.