"What is you putting that ugly black bow on to Norken's bonnet for, muvver?" she asked.
"It's mourning, Polypod; people wear black when their folks die."
"Oh, well, I s'pose to show they feel bad."
"I don't feel bad one mite," said Polypod, thoughtfully. Her mother in her busy hurry did not hear this comment, or Polypod would have been reproved, no doubt. But nobody puts black on so small a child for the loss of a grandfather, so Polypod made no more remarks.
The next week Nelly came into the sitting-room where the child had for once established herself in a corner of the old chintz-covered sofa.
"Polypod," she called out, "what do you suppose I've got in my apron?"
Polypod did not stop to guess; she jumped down and peeped in at a corner.
"Oh, Norken, a real live kitty! Oh! oh! oh! My vely own kitty?"
"Yes, you little goose," laughed Nelly; she could not comprehend what a wonderful and delightful treasure the kitten was to her little sister.
Polypod was not lonely any more; she hugged her precious kitty with all the tender passion of her warm little heart, she paddled out to the barn in all weathers to get it new milk, she taught it all sorts of tricks, it slept on her bed at nights, played hide-and-seek with her in the day-time, knocked Rosalinda Squires down from her silent state every time it found that neglected lady anywhere, and made things lively generally in the Dyer house. Even Pob and Jinky, solemn as they were with age and learning, could not help laughing at kit's tricks, and father Dyer, tired, and wet, and hungry as he might be when he came in from doing the chores, owned gruffly that, "That 'ere kitty's the spryest of all the critters I ever _did_ see."
This was great praise from father, the most silent of men generally, and so little given to expressing his feelings that Polypod could not remember that he ever kissed her but once, and that was the day grandpa died.
Great was his mistress's joy when kit caught his first mouse; she did not like mice; but oh! how she cried and scolded when he fetched in a young robin panting, quivering, bleeding, its beautiful eyes dark with death. Polypod was almost ready not to love kit any more, but the tender little heart soon forgave her darling on the wistful plea that he was "only a kitty."