Page:The Grey Story Book (1905).pdf/51

 little cat. This was too much, and burying her face in the cushion beside the kitten, she began to sob.

"Oh, my kitty, my kitty, I'm so sorry for you!" she wailed. "Oh, dear, I ought to be treating you! You're not sick at all, kitty, you really are not. Oh, you poor, poor little kitten!"

Just here there came a giggle from the doorway. Jessie looked up with flashing eyes, to see her brother standing there, looking in, a broad grin upon his face.

"Why, Carl Ferry," she exclaimed, angrily, "you ought to be ashamed of yourself, to stand there, laughing, and my poor kitten sick and dying!"

Carl's face sobered. "Well, what were you trying to do when I came," he asked.

"I was treating it in Christian Science," said Jessie, forlornly. "Mamma is away and—oh dear—I don't seem to do it any good at all!"

"Do you call that treating in Christian