"The ashman gave her to me," said Scrap, with a little anxious frown. "As a general fact ashmen don't own kittens, at least so this one said they didn't; but he said if we didn't buy her he'd drown her in a bag, and I bought her with my penny; but I find I don't need her, and I thought you'd like her for a real truly present."
Who could refuse Scrap's offering, even though it entailed watching a little kitten that could not crawl?
"She doesn't know how to be sorry for me," he said, as he was leaving, having kissed pussy tenderly good-by—"but she is only a baby. I think," he added, looking at me with his earnest little way—"I think the ashman is her uncle."
Scrap early developed two talents; one was for running away, the other was for composing stories. The stories were most interesting, but the running away used to frighten the whole household. Scrap would be brought back from these expeditions a most dejected, tired little person. One day he wandered all over New York with a German band; another time he was found in an old woman's shanty, learning how to feed pigs. When he was remonstrated with he would listen very soberly, fixing his eyes on Mary's face, and watching her mouth with comical intentness; but unfortunately it was impossible to make him appreciate the dangerous character of his offenses. One day, after Mary had exhausted all her eloquence, and told him of every possible danger, he remarked, calmly:
"That wasn't half as interesting as the last time, Mary. You never told me a word about Charlie Ross. Begin with how he was let go out to play." Then his little eyes danced, and he added, with his quaint air: "Make it just as frightening as you can, and couldn't you put in something about bears? Just scare me awfully, and see if it won't do me good."
Soon after this a means of preventing Scrap's vagabondizing occurred. Dr. Grey decided to take all the children to Germany, and Mary told Scrap he would see far more there than he ever could by running away. So the family sailed one summer for Austria. It was when they were on the steamer that they discovered Scrap had hidden away in his pocket a tiny American flag. Ben and Lewis laughed at him dreadfully, but Scrap was not to be put down.
"Now, you boys," he said, with his most dignified air, "suppose they should take me for a German, don't you see? I'll just show them my 'Merikan flag."
This spirit moved little Scrap all the time he was abroad. He resolutely refused to mingle with German boys in any purely German sport, lest he should lose his position as a "'Merikan" among them. He would say, "I'll show you some of our 'Merikan games, if you can learn them."
In the little German town where the boys lived he became a sort of small leader, older boys quite giving way before his manly assertion of authority. Among others, Scrap played with some young German Princes, whose rank in their own country entitled them to rule in all the games. This puzzled and bothered Scrap. One day he withdrew from a game, calmly remarking: "Perhaps you didn't know—I am a 'Merikan Prince."
After that Scrap's power never was contested. All that winter he went on writing his funny little stories, or telling them to the other boys. I do not know just whence Scrap's stories came, nor how they were made up, but I will quote from one which lies before me.