Then came the story of the mother-cat and her babies. Jinnie lifted the towel, and the almost smothered kittens 54 scrambled over the top of the pail. Milly Ann stretched her cramped legs, then proceeded vigorously to wash the faces of her numerous children.

54

“She wouldn’t ’ve had a place to live if I hadn’t brought her,” explained Jinnie, looking at the kittens. “I guess they won’t eat much, because Milly Ann catches all kinds of live things. I don’t like ’er to do that, but I heard she was born that way and can’t help it.”

“I guess she’ll find enough to eat around here,” he said softly.

“I brought my fiddle, too,” Jinnie went on lovingly. “I couldn’t live without it any more’n I could without Milly Ann.”

The cobbler nodded.

“You play?” he questioned.

“A little,” replied the girl.

Mr. Grandoken eyed the instrument on the floor beside the pail.

“You oughter have a box to put it in,” he suggested. “It might get wet.”

Virginia acquiesced by bowing her head.

“I know it,” she assented, “but I carried it in that old wrap.... Did Father tell you about my uncle?”

“Yes,” replied the cobbler.

“And that he was made to die for something my uncle did?”

“Yes, an’ that he might harm you.... I knew your mother well, lass, when she was young like you.”

An expression of sadness pursed Jinnie’s pretty mouth.

“I don’t remember her, you see,” she murmured sadly. “I wish I had her now.”

And she heard the cobbler murmur, “What must your uncle be to want to hurt a little, sweet girl like you?”

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