“Well, what is it dear? I thought you were asleep a long time ago,” said Owen as he came into the room.
“That’s just what I want to speak to you about: the kitten’s gone to sleep all right, but I can’t go. I’ve tried all different ways, counting and all, but it’s no use, so I thought I’d ask you if you’d mind coming and staying with me, and letting me hold your hand for a little while and then p’raps I could go.”
The boy twined his arms round Owen’s neck and hugged him very tightly.
“Oh, Dad, I love you so much!” he said. “I love you so much, I could squeeze you to death.”
“I’m afraid you will, if you squeeze me so tightly as that.”
The boy laughed softly as he relaxed his hold. “That WOULD be a funny way of showing you how much I love you, wouldn’t it, Dad? Squeezing you to death!”
“Yes, I suppose it would,” replied Owen huskily, as he tucked the bedclothes round the child’s shoulders. “But don’t talk any more, dear; just hold my hand and try to sleep.”
“All right,” said Frankie.
Lying there very quietly, holding his father’s hand and occasionally kissing it, the child presently fell asleep. Then Owen got up very gently and, having taken the kitten out of the bed again and arranged the bedclothes, he softly kissed the boy’s forehead and returned to the other room.
Looking about for a suitable place for the kitten to sleep in, he noticed Frankie’s toy box, and having emptied the toys on to the floor in a corner of the room, he made a bed in the box with some rags and placed it on its side on the hearthrug, facing the fire, and with some difficulty persuaded the kitten to lie in it. Then, having placed the chairs on which his clothes were drying at a safe distance from the fire, he went into the bedroom. Nora was still awake.