from the plate, and
offer the remainder to a grave tabby, which in turn distributed it to
her offspring. Then the kittens and "humans" rolled and scratched, and
shrieked and scratched again.

"Keep yer mouths shet out there, or I'll be after ye with a stick!" This
maternal sentiment, spoken in a loud shrill voice, greeted us as we
stepped within the gate.

"It's I, Betty. I have brought you a little something, and a friend who
wants to see the children."

"Dear sakes! 'tain't you, is it?" The shrill voice was now modulated in
an entirely different tone. "Ain't I glad you've come! Step right in and
set down. No? Then I'll be out and see ye ez soon ez I've tended the
baby."

"Baby!" I gasped, looking at the four fighting infants at my feet, none
of whom looked over thirteen months. "Are these hers too?"

"These are the twins," answered Mabel, quite seriously. "They call them
'the twin.' These are the two sets, just a year apart. The baby was born
a month ago. The baby isn't named. Let me see: these are Bessie and
Maurie and Robbie and Susie."

"Why, I thought you knew better," protested the mother, in a grieved
voice. "Susie is in the house there. That's Bessie." She wiped her hands
on her apron, and thrust one of them out through a rent in the
mosquito-netted door. "I'm glad to see any of _her_ friends. Yes. Good
mor'n'. The children? Laws sakes, they're round the house like pups!"

The face was remarkable for a pair of brilliant black eyes, an
inheritance of Italian ancestry. She was not yet middle-aged, and her
hair had turned prematurely gray. Her hands were bony, nervous hands,
indicative of great executive capacity, but the incessant work had left
them trembling.

"Are all your children here?" I asked, not knowing what else to say.

"Here's four of 'em. Come out here, you in there, an' I'll count ye." It
was a pitiful sight to see these five plump, rosy youngsters pass in
review before the frail, emaciated mother.

"But here are only nine," I ventured.

"Salt's missing, mother," said the eldest girl; "he's with father to the
trap."

"So he is, Kittie. They've rowed round the cove with what they ketched.
They'll be back d'rectly."

"But how do you manage, Mrs.--ah--Scud?" I asked. I am afraid there was
a slight choke in my throat as I spoke. The mother cast a quick look at
my face, and shoving her children into the house, one by one, said:

"Now go, Kittie; finish the dishes. You, Mamie, put the ba