gh the
spring evening was wearing late, for Aunt Janet said she supposed none
of us would sleep a wink that night if we didn't. A joyful procession
followed the Awkward Man and the Story Girl across the gray, star-litten
meadows to his home and through his pine-guarded gate.

"You know that old barn of mine back in the woods?" said the Awkward
Man. "I go to it only about once in a blue moon. There was an old barrel
there, upside down, one side resting on a block of wood. This morning
I went to the barn to see about having some hay hauled home, and I had
occasion to move the barrel. I noticed that it seemed to have been
moved slightly since my last visit, and it was now resting wholly on the
floor. I lifted it up--and there was a cat lying on the floor under it.
I had heard you had lost yours and I took it this was your pet. I was
afraid he was dead at first. He was lying there with his eyes closed;
but when I bent over him he opened them and gave a pitiful little mew;
or rather his mouth made the motion of a mew, for he was too weak to
utter a sound."

"Oh, poor, poor Paddy," said tender-hearted Cecily tearfully.

"He couldn't stand, so I carried him home and gave him just a little
milk. Fortunately he was able to lap it. I gave him a little more at
intervals all day, and when I left he was able to crawl around. I think
he'll be all right, but you'll have to be careful how you feed him for a
few days. Don't let your hearts run away with your judgment and kill him
with kindness."

"Do you suppose any one put him under that barrel?" asked the Story
Girl.

"No. The barn was locked. Nothing but a cat could get in. I suppose
he went under the barrel, perhaps in pursuit of a mouse, and somehow
knocked it off the block and so imprisoned himself."

Paddy was sitting before the fire in the Awkward Man's clean, bare
kitchen. Thin! Why, he was literally skin and bone, and his fur was dull
and lustreless. It almost broke our hearts to see our beautiful Paddy
brought so low.

"Oh, how he must have suffered!" moaned Cecily.

"He'll be as prosperous as ever in a week or two," said the Awkward Man
kindly.

The Story Girl gathered Paddy up in her arms. Most mellifluously did he
purr as we crowded around to stroke him; with friendly joy he licked our
hands with his little red tongue; poor Paddy was a thankful cat; he was
no longer lost, starving, imprisoned, helpless; he was with his comrades
once more and he was going home--