here!"

Juno came--with another. She laid it at his feet and departed for a
third. By the time the fifth was deposited before him, Uncle William
said feebly: "That's enough for this time, Juno. Don't you do no more."

She added one more to the wriggling row, and seated herself calmly
beside it, looking up for approval.

Uncle William glared at her for a minute. Then a sunny smile broke his
face. "That's all right, Juno." He bent and stroked the impassive head.
"I was prepared to mourn for ye, if need be, but not to rejoice--not to
this extent. But it's all right." Juno purred in proud content.




XX

It was fortunate that the artist was better, for Uncle William became
lost in the kittens and their welfare. The weakest thing at hand claimed
his interest. He carried them in a clam-basket from point to point,
seeing the best spots for their comfort and development. Juno marched at
his side, proud and happy. She purred approval of the universe and the
ways of man. Wherever Uncle William deposited the basket, she took up
her abode, serenely pleased; and when, a few hours later, he shifted it
on account of wind or rain or sun, she followed without demur. For her
the sun rose and set in Uncle William's round face and the depths of the
clam-basket.