“Oh, my, yes!” said Betsy, “that will be fine!  And I must put away Deborah’s summer clothes and get Cousin Ann to help me make some warm ones, if I’m going to take her to school in cold weather.”

As they drove into the yard, they saw Eleanor coming from the direction of the barn with something big and heavy in her mouth.  She held her head as high as she could, but even so, her burden dragged on the ground, bumping softly against the rough places on the path.  “Look!” said Betsy.  “Just see that great rat Eleanor has caught!”

Uncle Henry squinted his old eyes toward the cat for a moment and laughed.  “We’re not the only ones that are getting ready for winter,” he remarked.

Betsy did not know what he meant and climbed hastily over the wheel and ran to see.  As she approached Eleanor, the cat laid her burden down with an air of relief and looked trustfully into her little mistress’s face.  Why, it was one of the kittens!  Eleanor was bringing it to the house.  Oh, of course! they mustn’t stay out there in that cold hayloft now the cold weather was drawing near.  Betsy picked up the little sprawling thing, trying with weak legs to get around over the rough ground.  She carried it carefully toward the house, Eleanor walking sinuously by her side and “talking” in little singing, purring MIAUWS to explain her ideas of kitten-comfort.  Betsy felt that she quite understood her.  “Yes, Eleanor, a nice little basket behind the stove with a warm piece of an old blanket in it.  Yes, I’ll fix it for you.  It’ll be lovely to have the whole family there.  And I’ll bring the other one in for you.”

But evidently Eleanor did not understand little-girl talk as well as Betsy understood cat-talk, for a little later, as Betsy turned from the nest she was making in the corner behind the stove, Eleanor was missing; and when she ran out toward the barn she met her again, her head strained painfully back, dragging another fat, heavy kitten, who curled his pink feet up as high as he could in a vain effort not to have them knock against the stones.  “Now, Eleanor,” said Betsy, a little put out, “you don’t trust me enough!  I was going to get it all right!”

“Well,” said Aunt Abigail, as they came into the kitchen, “now you must begin to teach them to drink.”

“Goodness!” said Betsy, “don’t they know how to drink already?”

“You try them and see,” said Aunt Abigail with a mysterious smile.

So when Uncle Henry brought the pails full of fragrant, warm milk into the house, Betsy poured out some in a saucer and put the kittens up to it.  She and Molly squatted down on their heels to watch, and before long they were laughing so that they were rolling on the kitchen floor.  At first the kittens looked every way but at the milk, seeming to see everything but what was under their noses.  Then Graykin (that was Betsy’s) absent-mindedly walked right through the saucer, emerging with very wet feet and a very much aggrieved and astonished expression.  Molly screamed with laughter to see him shake his little pink toes and finally sit down seriously to lick them clean.  Then White-bib (Molly’s) put his head down to the saucer.