"I
noticed."
"Yes, sir," said Pete. And he turned and carried the small gray cat
away.
The new kitten did not stay down-stairs. Pete tried, it is true, to keep
his promise to watch it; but after he had seen the little animal
carried surreptitiously up-stairs in Mr. William's arms, he relaxed
his vigilance. Some days later the kitten appeared with a huge pink bow
behind its ears, somewhat awkwardly tied, if it must be confessed.
Where it came from, or who put it there was not known--until one day the
kitten was found in the hall delightedly chewing at the end of what had
been a roll of pink ribbon. Up the stairs led a trail of pink ribbon and
curling white paper--and the end of the trail was in William's room.
CHAPTER XVIII
BILLY WRITES ANOTHER LETTER
By the middle of June only William and the gray kitten were left with
Pete and Dong Ling in the Beacon Street house. Cyril had sailed for
England, and Bertram had gone on a sketching trip with a friend.
To William the house this summer was unusually lonely; indeed, he found
the silent, deserted rooms almost unbearable. Even the presence of the
little gray cat served only to accentuate the loneliness--it reminded
him of Billy.
William missed Billy. He owned that now even to Pete. He said that he
would be glad when she came back. To himself he said that he wished he
had not fallen in quite so readily with Aunt Hannah's notion of getting
the child away.
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