Part 6 (1/2)

”Let's close the barn door,” said Puss, before they started off for the house. ”The little mouse may freeze if we leave it open.”

It was a very big barn door that ran on little iron wheels, and it wasn't easy to move. ”Pus.h.!.+” cried Puss, bracing his feet against the side of the barn.

”We can't push any harder,” cried the three little kittens.

”Try again,” said Puss. ”Now, all together, heave ho, heave ho!” The big door began to move. ”Pus.h.!.+” cried Puss. ”It's beginning to move.”

The three little kittens did their best, and pretty soon the little wheels went round and round, faster and faster, until all of a sudden the big door b.u.mped into the other end of the doorway, sending Puss, Junior, and the three little kittens head over heels into the snow.

HUNGRY KITTENS

”GOODNESS, what a b.u.mp!” cried the little black kitty, wiping the snow from his eyes.

”Gracious! what a b.u.mp!” said Puss, scrambling up from the ground. ”I think I felt it more than the old barn door, for I was underneath, you see, and you were piled on top of me.”

The three little kittens felt very sorry and commenced to brush the snowflakes from his fur coat. ”There's snow in your boot legs,” said the little gray kitten, standing on tiptoe and looking down Puss, Junior's, boots. ”Don't you feel it? I should think it would make you s.h.i.+ver.”

”I'll soon find out,” said Puss, pulling them off and turning them upside down.

”Are they wet inside?” asked the tabby kitten, anxiously.

”Not very,” said Puss, squinting up one eye and peering in.

”If they are,” said the little black kitten, ”mother will dry them for you at the fire.”

Then:

The three little kittens put on their mittens, And soon ate up the pie.

”Oh, mother dear, we greatly fear That we have soiled our mittens.”

While Puss was busy placing his boots before the kitchen stove the three little kittens seated themselves at the table.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

”Why don't you take off your mittens?” Puss asked. ”I guess you're so hungry you can't wait,” he added with a laugh.

It took but a short time for his boots to dry, for there was a big, blazing fire in the stove.

”Don't you want something to eat?” asked Mrs. Cat, coming over to Puss.

”You have very pretty boots,” she continued, lifting up one and looking at it with much admiration.

”Yes, they are nice boots,” said Puss, Junior. ”They were made for my famous father, Puss in Boots. Mr. Solomon Grundy, who was born on a Monday, made them years ago for my father. And one day, it was only last week, when I stopped at his store, I saw a notice in his window that he had died on Sat.u.r.day and was buried on Sunday, and that was the end of Solomon Grundy.”

”Too bad,” said Mrs. Cat.