"I love Kit-Ki," said Drina placidly. "I have written a poem to her—where is it?—hand it to me, Bridget."
And, laying down her fork and crossing her bare legs under the table, Drina took breath and read rapidly:
"LINES TO MY CAT
"Why
Do I love Kit-Ki
And run after
Her with laughter
And rub her fur
So she will purr?
Why do I know
That Kit-Ki loves me so?
I know it if
Her tail stands up stiff
And she beguiles
Me with smiles—"
"Huh!" said Billy, "cats don't smile!"
"They do. When they look pleasant they smile," said Drina, and continued reading from her own works:
"Be kind in all
You say and do
For God made Kit-Ki
The same as you.
"Yours truly,
"ALEXANDRINA GERARD.
She looked doubtfully at Selwyn. "Is it all right to sign a poem? I believe that poets sign their works, don't they, Uncle Philip?"
"Certainly. Drina, I'll give you a dollar for that poem."
"You may have it, anyway," said Drina, generously; and, as an after-thought: "My birthday is next Wednesday."
"What a hint!" jeered Billy, casting a morsel at the dogs.