“Give it to the child yourself, Kit, as soon as she is able to bear the emotion it will inspire. I want you to take it to her. Don’t say anything about me; let it be your gift. No!” Helen held up a protesting hand. “I don’t care to get credit for this sort of thing; I would if I wanted to win the child, but I don’t. I’ll give you the kitten; you give it to Anne, and we’ll all live happy for ever after.” “Anne will be told correctly the tale of your thoughtfulness, of how you brought pussyette to her,” said Kit. “What a curious mixture you are, Nell! I wonder if you pose as a metallic creature, and that it is all pose? I’ll take this winner to Minerva.” He went away with the kitten purring close to his face, the basket swinging in his hand. Helen sighed. She turned excited eyes upon Miss Carrington. “He certainly is an attractive boy,” she said. “He doesn’t know a thing of the engagement, that’s clear. Wait till after dinner. If he does mind, it would be a pity to damage his inspiring appetite. I love to see Kit pitch in!” At dinner that night Kit certainly “pitched in.” He talked more than was his custom and he talked well. Miss Carrington, who was sharply critical of him, not always satisfied with his simplicity, was pleased to hear him, announcing opinions on some of the events of the day, well-expressed, logically thought-out from intelligent premises. Helen was clever and she had a rare opportunity to learn inside political facts, as well as to acquire skill in marshalling them to conclusions. She spurred Kit on and made him put forth his best powers to cope with her. When they returned to the piazza Kit found himself aroused, thinking fast, conscious of having enjoyed the past hour keenly, as a man must enjoy whatever puts him on his mettle. “You’re a great girl, Helen Abercrombie!” he said with sincere admiration. “You will hold your own if ever you get that salon you dream of, or are launched on a sea wide enough and windy enough for you.” “Helen is the peer of the most brilliant men. She will be a tower of strength to her associates,” said Miss Carrington, delighted to see that Kit was impressed. “Oh, it’s hats off! When the governor’s daughter passes by! Passes by us all,” agreed Kit, so readily that his aunt frowned. She suspected that Kit was thinking that womanly sweetness surpassed Helen’s talents. But she said pleasantly: “Quite right, Kit! I can’t help feeling sorry that Richard Latham is going to miss complete intellectual companionship. No matter what nice things he says of her, of course we know that Miss Dallas is not his equal. However, she is a nice, trusty, sympathetic girl, and on the whole I am glad--since he can’t have such as Helen, for the good reason that there is none like her!--that he will be taken care of, and at least be secure of the self-sacrificing devotion that a blind man needs. It is hard to keep in mind that he is a blind man; not only a great poet.”