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Page 9
Aunt Abigail was not looking at her at all, but she now stopped short in
one of her rushes to the table, set down the butter-plate she was
carrying, and said "There!" as though she had forgotten something. She
stooped--it was perfectly amazing how spry she was--and pulled out from
under the stove a half-grown kitten, very sleepy, yawning and
stretching, and blinking its eyes. "There, Betsy!" said Aunt Abigail,
putting the little yellow and white ball into the child's lap. "There is
one of old Whitey's kittens that didn't get given away last summer, and
she pesters the life out of me. I've got so much to do. When I heard you
were coming, I thought maybe you would take care of her for me. If you
want to, enough to bother to feed her and all, you can have her for your
own."
Elizabeth Ann bent her thin face over the warm, furry, friendly little
animal. She could not speak. She had always wanted a kitten, but Aunt
Frances and Aunt Harriet and Grace had always been sure that cats
brought diphtheria and tonsilitis and all sorts of dreadful diseases to
delicate little girls. She was afraid to move for fear the little thing
would jump down and run away, but as she bent cautiously toward it the
necktie of her middy blouse fell forward and the kitten in the middle of
a yawn struck swiftly at it with a soft paw. Then, still too sleepy to
play, it turned its head and began to lick Elizabeth Ann's hand with a
rough little tongue. Perhaps you can imagine how thrilled the little
girl was at this!
She held her hand perfectly still until the kitten stopped and began
suddenly washing its own face, and then she put her hands under it and
very awkwardly lifted it up, burying her face in the soft fur. The
kitten yawned again, and from the pink-lined mouth came a fresh, milky
breath. "Oh!" said Elizabeth Ann under her breath. "Oh, you DARLING!"
The kitten looked at her with bored, speculative eyes.
Elizabeth Ann looked up now at Aunt Abigail and said, "What is its name,
please?" But the old woman was busy turning over a griddle full of
pancakes and did not hear. On the train Elizabeth Ann had resolved not
to call these hateful relatives by the same name she had for dear Aunt
Frances, but she now forgot that resolution and said, again, "Oh, Aunt
Abigail, what is its name?"
Aunt Abigail faced her blankly. "Name?" she asked. "Whose ... oh, the
kitten's? Goodness, child, I stopped racking my brain for kitten names
sixty years ago. Name it yourself. It's yours."
Elizabeth Ann had already named it in her own mind, the name she had
always thought she WOULD call a kitten by, if she ever had one. It was
Eleanor, the prettiest name she knew.
Aunt Abigail pushed a pitcher toward her. "There's the cat's saucer
under the sink. Don't you want to give it some milk?"
Elizabeth Ann got down from her chair, poured some milk into the saucer,
and called: "Here, Eleanor! Here, Eleanor!"
Aunt Abigail looked at her sharply out of the corner of her eye and her
lips twitched, but a moment later her face was immovably grave as she
carried the last plate of pancakes to the table.
Elizabeth Ann sat on her heels for a long time, watching the kitten lap
the milk, and she was surprised, when she stood up, to see that Cousin
Ann and Uncle Henry had come in, very red-cheeked from the cold air.
"Well, folks," said Aunt Abigail, "don't you think we've done some
lively stepping around, Betsy and I, to get supper all on the table for
you?"
Elizabeth Ann stared. What did Aunt Abigail mean? She hadn't done a
thing about getting supper! But nobody made any comment, and they all
took their seats and began to eat. Elizabeth Ann was astonishingly
hungry, and she thought she could never get enough of the creamed
potatoes, cold ham, hot cocoa, and pancakes. She was very much relieved
that her refusal of beans caused no comment. Aunt Frances had always
tried very hard to make her eat beans because they have so much protein
in them, and growing children need protein. Elizabeth Ann had heard this
said so many times she could have repeated it backward, but it had never
made her hate beans any the less. However, nobody here seemed to know
this, and Elizabeth Ann kept her knowledge to herself. They had also
evidently never heard how delicate her digestion was, for she never saw
anything like the number of pancakes they let her eat. ALL SHE WANTED!
She had never heard of such a thing!
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