“Children,” said she, “you see the kittens’ mother thinks her babies have had enough play for the present, and she has gone to her basket to invite them to come to her to have some dinner and to take a nap. Now set all the kittens down on the floor and see what they will do.”
When my kittens were set free I began crooning to them, and oh, how it pleased the children to see the little things stand still a second, prick up their ears, and then run as one man in the direction of the sound that a tired kitten loves so well to hear.
In less time than it takes to tell it, the three were gathered at my breast and in another minute they were purring contentedly, and Booker, dear thoughtful child, stood guard in front of the basket.
Then some of the children sang beautiful songs about kittens and birds, and Miss Wallace accompanied them on the piano. I liked Lillian’s song best of all; I will tell you the words of it:
“A homeless little kitten
Came to my door one day,
‘I’m cold and starved, please let me in!’
Its sad cries seemed to say.
I took it up and shut the door
Upon the bitter storm,