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Fisher, Dorothy Canfield, 1879-1958

"Understood Betsy"

Why, Betsy could almost understand it! She
COULD understand it enough to know that it was love-talk, and then,
breaking into this, came a sudden series of shrill, little, needle-like
cries that fairly filled the hay-loft. Eleanor gave a bound forward and
disappeared. Betsy, very much excited, scrambled and climbed up over the
hay as fast as she could go.
It was all silent now--the piercing, funny little squalls had stopped as
suddenly as they began. On the top in a little nest lay Eleanor, purring
so loudly you could hear her all over the big mow, and so proud and
happy she could hardly contain herself. Her eyes glistened, she arched
her back, rolled over and spread out her paws, disclosing to Betsy's
astounded, delighted eyes--no, she wasn't dreaming--two dear little
kittens, one all gray, just like its mother; one gray with a big bib on
his chest.
Oh! How dear they were! How darling, and cuddly, and fuzzy! Betsy put
her fingers very softly on the gray one's head and thrilled to feel the
warmth of the little living creature. "Oh, Eleanor!" she asked eagerly.
"CAN I pick one up?" She lifted the gray one gently and held it up to
her cheek. The little thing nestled down in the warm hollow of her hand.
She could feel its tiny, tiny little claws pricking softly into her
palm. "Oh, you sweetness! You little, little baby-thing!" she said over
and over in a whisper.


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