"No, hold one this way," said Bumble, cuddling a little ball of fur in the
palm of her hand. "But, mumsey, I'm awful hungry; aren't we going to have
any dinner? Where's Hopalong?"
"She's gone on the excursion, my dear. Poor thing, she works so hard I'm
glad for her to have a little outing."
"H'm, she gets one about twice a week," said Bob; "Hopalong's the cook,
Patty. We call her that 'cause she isn't very lively, and she just shuffles
about. But she's a good-natured old thing, and such a good cook--"
"Here, children, take this flock of cats," said Mrs. Barlow, "and we'll
soon have something to eat, cook or no cook."
Bumble gathered up the kittens, beginning with the white one. "This is the
idiot," she said, "but isn't it a pretty cat? You can see she's
half-witted, 'cause only one eye is open, and she has such a general air of
stupidity."
"She might turn out to be the smartest of the lot," said Patty.
"I wish I could keep her and see, but dad says they must all be drowned
to-morrow. I neglected the last kitten I had, and didn't feed her
regularly, so the poor thing died.
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