“There! She’s got away and gone under the table,” she exclaimed, as the kitten made a spring for liberty. Then she went on to the end and started for the cat, while Kenneth improved the opportunity to leave the room, feeling smaller and wickeder than he had ever felt since he stole melons from a neighbor’s garden. Surely a little child was teaching him, and that night he said the neglected prayer of his childhood, kneeling in the darkness and cold of his own room, and promising himself never to omit it again if fifty Hals were there telling him it was nonsense. CHAPTER V CONNIE’S CHRISTMAS After leaving Connie, Kenneth went to say good-night to Mrs. Hart, to whom he said, very deferentially: “I know from my father how warm your house is everywhere, and I know our bedrooms are cold. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll make a fire in your room in the morning before you are awake. I’ll be very still.” When Kenneth began to speak, Mrs. Hart gave him a haughty stare. But as he went on her countenance relaxed, and she began for the first time to notice what a fine face and figure he had, and how well he spoke. “Quite gentlemanly for the country,” she thought, and smiled graciously, saying she did not like to trouble him herself, but she presumed Connie might be cold. Kenneth, who would have gone through fire and water for Connie, was up by six o’clock next morning, and when Mrs. Hart awoke an hour and a half later, there was a bright fire crackling on the hearth, and her room was as comfortable as her own luxurious boudoir at home. Connie was not there. She had awakened early, dressed herself after a fashion, and gone down to reconnoitre. The deacon was going to the barn and she went with him and saw him feed Sorrel, and herself threw some hay to him from the loft above, nearly tumbling through the opening in her eagerness to look down and see him get it. She saw the young kittens and the twelve cats taking their breakfast in two pans in the barn, as it was too cold to utilize the trough outside. She saw and was nearly knocked down by the dog, Chance, who, Kenneth said, was a Russian Collie, with royal blood in him. After her first scare at his boisterous greeting, Connie had no fear of him, and kept her hand on his shaggy mane as she made the tour of the barn, inspecting everything. She tried to catch a hen which she found upon its nest in a corner. But it eluded her grasp and flew cackling indignantly at being disturbed. And all the time she was asking innumerable questions about what was so new to her.