“What a pretty puss!” his mother exclaimed; “where did you find her?”
Fred, standing very erect and firm, told all the circumstances relating to his new friend, and then asked,—
“What shall I do with her?”
“Carry her to Mrs. Perry, to be sure.”
“But it’s a long walk, and it’s awful muddy, ma. Couldn’t I let her stay here, and tell Ned at Sabbath school?”
“Is that the way you would like Ned to do, if the kitty were yours? Perhaps he is looking everywhere for her now, and mourning because his pet is lost.”
Frederick sat for a moment stroking the cat’s soft fur; then he started up, exclaiming, “I’ll go right off. I don’t care if it is muddy. I know Ned will be so glad.”
It was indeed quite a task for a child of only eight years to carry a half-grown cat over a muddy road for a third of a mile. But Fred anticipated, with delight, the pleasure he should give, and the thanks he would receive. Once kitty, not liking to be held so tightly, escaped from his arms, and led him a chase over the wall into a marshy field; but he caught her again at last, and laughed alone by himself, imagining how Ned and Clara would run to meet him as soon as they saw what he was carrying.
Hatty had finished washing the dishes, and had swept the dining-room and kitchen, when, happening to look from the window, she saw Fred coming back.
He scraped the mud from his boots and came into the kitchen, his face expressive of the greatest disgust.