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Updated: June 23, 2025
"And those three blessed children are probably out in it all," thought Tattine's Mother, standing pale and trembling at her window, and watching the road which the wagonette would have to come.
All her little life Tattine's Mother had been setting things straight for her, drying every tear, and unravelling every tangle, so that Tattine was pretty downhearted the day she discovered that there were some things that were quite beyond even her Mother's power to alter. It was on a lovely June morning that Tattine made the first of her unwelcome discoveries.
Tattine's little black-and-white kitten, whose home was in the barn, had been frisking about her feet during all the raking, but as the raking came under the apple-trees, other thoughts came into her little black-and-white head, and there she was stealthily clawing her way up the nearest tree.
While the children were having this little talk about politeness, Rudolph and Mabel had climbed into the wagon, and the donkey, acting upon a suggestion from Tattine's whip, had started down the roadway. The trio were off for Patrick's, for this was to be the day of the Kirks' "At Home," and, dressed in kis Sunday-best, Patrick that very minute was waiting at his door to receive them.
Tattine's futile rage was followed in a few minutes by, "Oh, Patrick, I never dreamt it was Kittie. Has SHE been TRAINED to do it, do you think?" "Oh. no, miss; it just comes natural to cats and kittens to prey upon birds and birds' nests." "Patrick," said Tattine solemnly, "there is not going to be any four-legged thing left for me to love.
But what I was going to tell you was that Grandma Luty's visit was all a joy to Tattine, and so when, just at daylight one morning, the setter puppies in their kennel at the back of the house commenced a prodigious barking, Tattine's first thought was for Grandma.
The poor little thing was still breathing, breathing indeed with all his might and main, so that his heart thumped against his little brown sides with all the regularity of a Rider Engine. Tattine's first thought was for the rabbit, and she held it close to her, stroking it with one little brown trembling hand and saying, "There! there! Hush, you little dear; you're safe now, don't be frightened!
Well, we'll have to see what we` can do about it." "Will you see right away?" urged Tattine eagerly. "May as well, I reckon," and Joseph walked off in the direction of the tool-house, but to Tattine's regret evidently did not appreciate any need for extreme haste. In a little while he was back again with Patrick, and both of them were carrying spades.
"Then it's settled, Patrick, and we'll make it the very first day Papa can spare you." They had raked down, while they had been having this conversation, to close proximity to two pretty rows of apple-trees that had been left on the front lawn, a reminder of the farm that "used to be," and the sight of the trees brought a troubled look into Tattine's face.
Patrick Kirk was raking the gravel on the road into pretty criss-cross patterns, and Tattine was pretending to help him with her own garden rake. Patrick was one of Tattine's best friends and she loved to work with him and to talk to him. Patrick was a fine old Irishman, there was no doubt whatever about that, faithful and conscientious to the last degree.
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