here are four little,
new kittens what haven't got their peepers opened yet."

"Oh, where, Jo? We'll not tell her. Please, Jo!" pleaded Betty.

"I choose to name them," said Francis. "Tell, Jo."

"I'll not tell, unless you get your little new playmate here to promise me
a dance to-night."

"Are you really going to have a dance to-night?" asked the girl eagerly.

"Sure thing we are. Right here in this mess hall, and--" looking at her
fixedly, he added slowly, "you can dance, too,--with me."

"Oh!" she cried, her eyes shining. "It will seem so beautiful--to dance
again. What do they dance up here--fox trot?"

"We dance any old thing the music tells us to."

"Same as they do in--Chicago?" she asked demurely.

"Now tell us where the kittens are," demanded Betty.

"Follow me, little Black and Tan."

In her excitement Betty forgot to resent Jo's pet appellation for her.

He led the way to a corner of the tool-house.

Reposing in a nest made of pieces of carpet lined with soft flannel, were
four puffballs of maltese which were quickly gathered and garnered by Pen
and the children, while the mother-cat looked on with proud but
apprehensive eyes.

"Who fixed them such a nice bed?" asked Francis.

"Your Uncle Kurt. But they tell me he rode away at first crack of
daybreak, so he didn't see them."

"And they'll have their eyes open before he gets back, maybe!" lamented
Francis.

"Perhaps," put in Jo, "he'll get his eyes opened wide while he's gone.
Then he and the kits can meet on equal terms."

"He'll miss the dance, too," said Betty sorrowfully.

"Whom do you men dance with?" asked Pen.

"Well, there's Betty here stays up for three dances anyway, and there's
Mrs. Kingdon, and Ag, and the cook, and the other girl--and everything
else failing, we make Gene Dossey play gal."

"What music do you have?"

"We've got two of the finest fiddlers that ever drew a bow. Sleepy Sandy
and Jakey Fourr. Say, Billy Kingdon, if you squeeze that kitten so hard,
its eyes'll bust open before the nine-day limit. Put them all down now, or
their ma'll have a kitnip fit."

"I choose to name them," said Francis. "Uncle Sam is this biggest one; the
one with white on is General Joffre, and the little one is King George
and--"

"Hold on there!" cried Jo. "Uncle Sam and General J. goes all right, all
right; but there ain't room for another gent's name. You'll have to change
King George to Georgette."

"I won't have her named Ge