"What ails that cat?" said Cousin Ann, noting this pacing and
restlessness.
"Maybe she wants Betsy to hold her kittens, too," suggested Aunt
Abigail.
"Oh, I'd love to!" said Betsy, spreading out her knees to make her lap
bigger.
"But I want my own White-bib myself!" said Molly, looking up from the
beads she was stringing.
"Well, maybe Eleanor would let you settle it that way," said Cousin Ann.
The little girls ran over to the basket and brought back each her own
kitten. Eleanor watched them anxiously, but as soon as they sat down she
jumped up happily into Betsy's lap and curled down close to little
Graykin. This time she was completely satisfied, and her loud purring
filled the room with a peaceable murmur.
"There, now you're fixed for the winter," said Aunt Abigail.
By and by, after Cousin Ann had popped some corn, old Shep got off the
couch and came to stand by Betsy's knee to get an occasional handful.
Eleanor opened one eye, recognized a friend, and shut it sleepily. But
the little kitten woke up in terrible alarm to see that hideous monster
so near him, and prepared to sell his life dearly. He bristled up his
ridiculous little tail, opened his absurd, little pink mouth in a soft,
baby s-s-s-, and struck savagely at old Shep's good-natured face with a
soft little paw. Betsy felt her heart overflow with amusement and pride
in the intrepid little morsel.
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