Page:Aunt Jo's Scrap-Bag, Volume 1.djvu/278

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PATTY'S PATCHWORK.
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Bunches, who squeaked and tumbled and sprawled about with their dim eyes blinking, their tiny pink paws fumbling, and their dear gray tails waggling in the sweetest way. Such a comfort as they were to Patty no words could tell, and nothing will ever convince me that Mrs. Bunch did not know all about baby, and so lay herself out to cheer up her little mistress like a motherly loving old puss, as she was.

As Patty lay on the rug that evening while Aunt Pen sung softly in the twilight, a small, white figure came pattering over the straw carpet, and dropped a soft, warm ball down by Patty's cheek, saying, as plainly as a loud, confiding purr could say it—

'There, my dear, this is a lonely time for you, I know, so I've brought my best and prettiest darling to comfort you;' and with that Mother Bunch sat down and washed her face, while