Patricia had to climb up the steep stairs into the haymow one step at a time. She felt along the rough sides carefully with her little hands. The boys would have liked to help her and were too bashful, but all the time Leone was just behind her, telling her, “Don’t you be afraid. Leone’s right here, Patricia. Leone won’t let you fall.” When they got up into the haymow Patricia was almost frightened at first; it was so big, and there were such shadows. A long beam of sunlight fell dimly and dustily golden from the high window in the peak, across the great beams and the piled hay, and widened over the great stretch of wooden floor. “Haven’t you ever been up in a haymow before?” Clyde demanded. “Of course she hasn’t,” Leone answered indignantly. Patricia looked around at them, and her face was pale with awed excitement. “It’s like the church!” she breathed. “Gee, a _hay_-mow!” Still, it really was. Even their voices and the way they walked sounded different up here. The boys were tickled and a little embarrassed that Patricia had thought of that. “Is this where the kitties live?” “The little ones do. Where are the little bitty ones, Marvin?” “_I_ know!” both the boys shouted. They leaped up into the sliding mounds of hay, calling back, “Come on if you want to see, Patricia!” “I’ll help you, Patricia,” Leone encouraged her. She boosted and got Patricia up on to the hay pile and helped her flounder along with her feet plunging into uncertain holes, and the long spears of hay scratching at her bare legs above the half socks, and the dust making her eyes smart. Then Patricia began to laugh. She liked it! “Here they are!” the boys shouted. A bevy of half-grown cats suddenly fled down the hay like shadows. “No, no!” Patricia screamed when the boys tried valiantly to catch a little black cat by its tail. Leone was assuring her, “Never mind, they won’t hurt the kitties, Patricia.” “Look here! Come here!” the boys were calling. Patricia was almost afraid to go. The boys had found the nest of little kittens. They had got hold of the soft, mousy, wriggling things and were holding them up for her to see. Fascinated, she went nearer. The little kittens had pink skin fluffed over with the finest fur, big round heads, and little snubby ears, and blue eyes barely open. “Oh!...” She looked up at Leone with her pink lips pursed. She loved the little kittens but she was afraid of them. “Oh, but they aren’t kitties! They don’t look like kitties.” The boys were highly amused. “What do they look like?” Marvin demanded. “What do you think they are? Cows? Horses?” She said tremulously, “No, I _know_ cows are big. But their heads look the way little baby cow heads do in the pictures. They do.” “I think they do, too,” Leone asserted stoutly. She coaxed, “Touch them, Patricia. They won’t hurt you.”