CHAPTER II.
COMFORT AND AFFLICTION.
"Mercy and love have met thee on thy road,
Thou wretched outcast!" —Wordsworth.
Gerty had had her kitten about a month, when she took a violent cold from exposure to damp and rain; and Nan, fearing she should have trouble with her if she became seriously ill, bade her stay in the house, and keep in the warm room. Gerty's cough was fearful; and she would have sat by the fire all day, had it not been for her anxiety about the kitten. Towards night the men were heard coming in to supper. Just as they entered the door of the room where Nan and Gerty were, one of them stumbled over the kitten, which had slyly come in with them.
"Cracky! what's this 'ere?" said the man whom they called Jemmy; "a cat, I vow! Why, Nan, I thought you hated cats!"
"Well, 'tan't none o' mine; drive it out," said Nan.
Jemmy tried to do so; but puss, making a circuit round his legs, sprang forward into the arms of Gerty.
"Whose kitten's that, Gerty?" said Nan.
"Mine!" said Gerty, bravely.