e Kitten, and I just
tumbled down from the hay-loft, but I didn't mean to."

"I am the Blind Horse," answered a strong and gentle voice outside, "and
I hope you are not hurt."

"Not very much," answered the Kitten. "I just feel ache-y in my back and
scared all over."

"Come out into the manger, White Kitten," said the Blind Horse, "and
perhaps you won't be so scared. I won't touch you, although I should
like to. You know I am blind, and so, unless I can touch people I
don't know how they look."

[Illustration: I AM THE WHITE KITTEN.]

The White Kitten crawled out and saw him, and then she wasn't afraid at
all. She was so sorry for him that she couldn't be afraid. She
remembered the time before her eyes opened when she had to feel for
everything she wanted. It was not so hard then, because she did not know
anything different, but now she could not bear to think of not being
able to see all that was around her. "If you will put your nose down in
the other end of the manger," she said, "I will rub up against it, and
you will know more how I look."

The Blind Horse did this, and who can tell how happy it made him when
her warm and furry back rubbed up against his nose? "Thank you," he
whinnied; "you are very good."

"Would you know I was a Kitten if I hadn't told you?" she said.

"Indeed I would," he answered.

"And you wouldn't have thought me a Pig?" she asked.

"Never!" said he; "I wouldn't even have believed you if you had told me
that you were one."

The Blind Horse and the White Kitten became firm friends, and when she
tried to wash off the dirt that got into her fur she sat in the very
middle of the manger and told him all about it.

"My mother always has washed me," she said, "but my tongue is getting
big enough to wash with now. It is getting rougher, too, and that is a
good thing. My mother says that the reason why all the prickles on Cats'
tongues point backward is because then we can lick all the meat off from
bones with them. I'm 'most old enough to eat meat now. I can't wash the
top of my head though. You have to wet your paw and scrub it with that.
Can you wash the top of your head?"

Then the Blind Horse told her how the men kept him clean; and while he
was telling this the Cat came into his stall, crying and looking for her
child.

"Oh, mother," cried the White Kitten, "I tumbled down, but I didn't mean
to, and I'm sorry I didn't mind you, and the Blind Horse can't wash the
top of his hea