CHAPTER VI.

KITTY'S STORY.

THE lady sat for a few moments with her head resting on her hand, looking so very sad that Maurice dared not interrupt her. She saw his eager face at last, and went on in a hurried manner.

"Late in the fall, Mrs. Maynard's sister came from the West to make them a visit. She had a young babe about ten months old, a lovely child, to whom Kitty soon became warmly attached. The little girl was named Nellie; and they called her playfully, Nellie Bly, like the little song, you know."

"One evening there was to be a concert. The whole family were anxious to go; but there was Nellie to be taken care of. At last Kitty urged them to leave the baby with her. She was ten years old, and though playful as a kitten herself, could be very matronly when she chose."

"'I'll take such nice care of her,' she urged, 'that she will want you to go every evening. I promise you, Aunt Martha, that I wont leave her a minute.'"

"This plan was agreed to at last. Little Nellie Bly was fast asleep in the cradle. Kitty sat by her side knitting a sock for herself; the doors were all fastened except the one from which were going out."

"'There can't possibly be any danger,' exclaimed Mrs. Maynard."

"As they shut the door, Kitty called after them with a laugh, 'If I grow sleepy, I shall get my new book and read a little.'"

"That was the last they saw of Kitty in health. No one could explain what happened; but it was probable that sitting alone for two hours or more, the child grew sleepy, and a spark snapped out of the stove upon her dress. She woke in a fright to find her clothes in a light blaze. She screamed for help, and then tried to put out the fire by rolling on the floor. In the midst of all her fright and pain, she remembered her promise not to leave the baby a minute, and snatching it up from the cradle, she ran half way down the hill to the next house, screaming,—"

"'Fire! Fire! Oh, do help me!'"

"Her parents met her here. Her mother took off her own warm shawl, and folding it tightly about her poor child, quenched the flames. Then her father took her tenderly in his arms, Martha following with the baby. By the time they reached home, Kitty had fainted.

"There, on the floor, was a magazine, the leaves smouldering away. The cradle-quilt was more than half burned, and still smoking; but, most fortunately, the flames had not extended farther."

"Was Nellie Bly burned too, mamma?" asked Maurice.

"One arm and the side of her neck were sadly scorched. She got well in a few weeks, but died four months later with croup. Kitty was dreadfully burned, her hands especially. She has never since been able to open her fingers. The first convulsion came on the night after the sad accident, and she has never been wholly free from them since. That was nearly nine years ago."

"For a long time the physicians hoped to be able to cure her. Mr. Maynard gave up his trade, and stayed in the house to help take care of his distressed child. Then they sold off, piece by piece, their parlor furniture, using the money to pay the doctors' bills, until at last they became quite poor. The neighbors were all kind, or they must have suffered."

"Her father and mother were almost heart-broken when they were told that Kitty's spasms were incurable. I suppose the poor girl herself would tell you that she was very rebellious and wicked when she gradually came to understand their opinion. To those around her she always seemed thankful for every service, and remarkably patient in enduring her pain."

"She used to cry out when she felt the spasms coming on,—"

"O God, do please help me! Do make me patient! Do, somebody, pray God to make me better!"

"Did God help her, mamma?"

"Yes, he did. He helped her to become submissive to his holy will,—to look beyond this world to her home in Heaven, where there is no sorrow nor suffering; and where the tears are wiped from every eye. He helped her, suffering and feeble as she is, to be the greatest blessing to the whole family, and to many others beside."

"How could she be that, mamma, when she can't get out of bed?"

"I will tell you, Maurice, how she has been a blessing to me. When I first knew her, I used sometimes to think I had great trials. Little things often vexed me. I watched Kitty day by day, bearing her sufferings without a murmur; happy through them all; thanking her Heavenly Father for every moment that she was free from pain. Do you think I could help trying to be patient under my trifling annoyances?"

"Does Kitty have the toothache?" asked Maurice.

"I don't know. Her agony is so much worse than toothache, I don't suppose she would notice it much."

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