On the fourth day, almost before the family
realized what was happening, she was gone; and with her had gone Mrs.
Stetson and Spunk.
The family said they liked it--the quiet, the freedom. They said they
liked to be alone--all but William. He said nothing.
And yet--
When Bertram went to his studio that morning he did not pick up his
brushes until he had sat for long minutes before the sketch of a
red-cheeked, curly-headed young girl whose eyes held a peculiarly
wistful appeal; and Cyril, at his piano up-stairs, sat with idle fingers
until they finally drifted into a simple little melody--the last thing
Billy had been learning.
It was Pete who brought in the kitten; and Billy had been gone a whole
week then.
"The poor little beast was cryin' at the alleyway door, sir," he
explained. "I--I made so bold as to bring him in."
"Of course," said William. "Did you feed it?"
"Yes, sir; Ling did."
There was a pause, then Pete spoke, diffidently.
"I thought, sir, if ye didn't mind, I'd keep it. I'll try to see that it
stays down-stairs, sir, out of yer way."
"That's all right, Pete; keep it, by all means, by all means," approved
William.
"Thank ye, sir. Ye see, it's a stray. It hasn't got any home. And, did
ye notice, sir? it looks like Spunk."
"Yes, I noticed," said William, stirring with sudden restlessness.
Pages:
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100