“You are more splendid than I remembered,” little Anne sighed in profound contentment. “Doctor says I may get up in my wrapper half the day Sunday. But he says I can’t go to Mass yet, but it’s all right when you can’t honest-truth go! And then, sooner than you’d think, I’m to be dressed! And by the Fourth you wouldn’t know anything’d happened, ’cept I’ve got to look out and not catch cold. That’s what he says. I’m grateful, Kit, that I’m going to stay right here with everyone! I know lots of people in Heaven, nicer’n anybody, but, well, don’t you think you love those you know sort of closer? And I’ll have to be just’s good! Because I stayed here. And prob’ly I’ve got something to do, or I’d have died.” “Just the same, little Anne!” Kit thought, but he said: “It’s reason enough for letting you live that we all wanted you so badly, little Anne. Now, what have I here?” “Window in the end!” cried little Anne, all excitement in an instant. “Alive? Oh, could it be a kitten, Kit?” “It could be. It is!” said Kit. He unstrapped the basket and took out the small white creature with the appealing face. Little Anne fell back on her pillow, clasped her hands, and closed her eyes for an instant of intense feeling. Then she caught the kitten to her and kissed and kissed it in wordless rapture. “Oh, God, I thank Thee for making kittens like powder puffs, and giving me one!” they heard her whisper as she held the kitten off, then clasped it to her breast, passionately. Kit told her how Helen had brought it from the city to her, and she listened with dilated eyes. “How wonderful! I shall love her now whether I can or not,” little Anne said. “Thank her; oh, do thank her, and tell her the way I feel about it, though no one on earth can ’magine! Would you mind if I named her Kitca, for you, dear, dear Kit? Short for Kit Carrington? ’Cause you fished me out that day and brought this angel-thing here?” “I should be honoured, little Anne! I must go now, or you’ll be tired. Good-bye, dear! Some day, when you’re able to hear it, I will tell you a story about Kit Carrington, and how he sat all night watching the stars, heavy-hearted, when little Anne was so ill,” he said, bending over the child to kiss her cheek. Little Anne clasped her long, thin arms around his neck, and drew his ear to her lips, and whispered: “You don’t look well yourself, my Kit, but when I get up I’ll look after you! Good-bye; and all the blessings of all the blessedest blessings be upon your rather tumbled head. ’Cause I have tumbled your hair, Kit, quite outrageous!” Kit took Helen home feeling happier than he had thought that he could feel when the day had begun. He knew that his wound would throb again in the darkness of night, but little Anne and that peaceful household had helped him.