ty took her hands from the dish-water, wiped them on
the roller, and came toward him.

"Why Fred!" she exclaimed, "that's Ned Perry's kitty. Clara says it's
a real Maltese. They'll feel dreadfully when they know it's lost."

"I wish they wouldn't mind," said Fred, caressing the puss; "see how
she loves me! I'd like to keep her so much."

"But would you have Ned, who is a roguish boy, catch one of your
bantams and keep it? You'd call that stealing."

Fred sighed. "But I didn't go to catch her, Hatty; she came right into
the door. I think that's different."

"Perhaps she is hungry."

"O Hatty! may I try her with some milk?"

"Yes," she answered, laughing at his eagerness. "Pour some into a
saucer from the pitcher in the closet, and see whether she will drink
it."

He was rewarded by the sight of pussy lapping up the milk.

"I do believe kitty is thanking me," he said, laughing and clapping
his hands. "See how she keeps looking up! I never saw a kitty do so
before."

Puss did, indeed, seem to be grateful. She lapped away at the milk
with great eagerness, and then she would look in the face of her
benefactor, and utter a soft little mew.

[Illustration: PUSSY LAPPING THE MILK. Page 14.]

"Frederick," called out Mrs. Carleton from the head of the stairs,
"isn't it time for you to go to school?"

"It's Saturday, ma; I don't go to-day."

"Oh, I forgot," she said; "well, come up here a minute."

Fred obeyed, carrying kitty in his arms.

"What a pretty puss!" his mother exclaimed; "where did you find her?"

Fred, standing very erect and firm, told all the circumstances
relating to his new friend, and then asked,--

"What shall I do with her?"

"Carry her to Mrs. Perry, to be sure."

"But it's a long walk, and it's awful muddy, ma. Couldn't I let her
stay here, and tell Ned at Sabbath school?"

"Is that the way you would like Ned to do, if the kitty were yours?
Perhaps he is looking everywhere for her now, and mourning because his
pet is lost."

Frederick sat for a moment stroking the cat's soft fur; then he
started up, exclaiming, "I'll go right off. I don't care if it is
muddy. I know Ned will be so glad."

It was indeed quite a task for a child of only eight years to carry a
half-grown cat over a muddy road for a third of a mile. But Fred
anticipated, with delight, the pleasure he should give, and the thanks
he would receive. Once kitty, not liking to be held so tightly,
escaped from his arms, an