THE HEN THAT BROODED KITTENS.
Come with mamma, Willie, and we will hunt for eggs."
We went out to the barn, Willie knew how to find the clean white eggs. I carried the basket, and the little boy hunted. Up and down the barn he trotted, and tumbled into the sweet-smelling hay. He found eggs by dozens.
"Come, Willie! I think there are no more."
"Yes, there are, mamma, for old Blackie is on her nest."
"Never mind, dear. Don't drive her off." I had spoken too late, for "Shoo," said Willie, and away flew Blackie.
"O mamma, mamma! look, look!"
He was bending over the nest, and beckoning to me with one hand. I jumped down into the bin and peeped over his shoulder. There, in old Blackie's nest, were three little kittens that had not "lost their mittens."
Willie was wild with joy, and every day he came to visit them. He always found old Blackie brooding them, while the kittens purred contentedly under her warm feathers.
The old mother cat enjoyed the strange sight as she nestled in the hay near by.