"He kicked Mrs. Brown, and called her a cross old thing. Tong is bad and he wont kepe the kovers on him. Mary says he is orful to take kare of."
As the disease progressed, the bulletins became still more unpleasantly personal. One, written in very black ink, ran as follows:
"He put his Tong out at the doctor, and mary says we are afrade he is going to have the mumps and if he does wont there just be a time with him."
This "time" came to pass, for mumps set in, and poor little Scrap's seclusion left him a very white-faced, tired little person indeed. But after a time no more horrible bulletins had to be written about him, for all his sweetness of temper returned, and he played at being the "Regiment" again with great gayety.
SCRAP AND HIS KITTEN.
It was about this time that I one day heard a knock at my front door, and opening it myself, found Scrap standing very still, his eyes twinkling, and his little mouth trying not to smile. He had a wee kitten in a basket.
"Well, Scrap!" I exclaimed, "I'm glad to see you, dear. Where did pussy come from?"
"I find I don't need her," he said, soberly, coming in and sitting down, grave as a little judge. "She's a present for you. Do you think you like cats?"
"Not always," I had to answer in truth. "But that looks such a dear little thing! Where did you get her, Scrap dear?"