hing you've seen
yourself! The most _beautifulest_! The most _darlingest_ thing that
you've ever seen! Go out in the field I say! Go out in the woods! Go up
on the mountain top! And _look around_! Nobody I tell you can ever make
another person see anything that he hasn't seen himself! Now be gone!"
said the Blinded Lady. "I'm all tuckered out!"

"Why I'm sure," said my Father, "we never would have come at all if we
hadn't supposed that----."

The Blinded Lady shook her cane right at my Father.

"Don't be stuffy!" she said. "But get out!"

We got out.

Old Mary who washed and ironed and cooked for the Blinded Lady showed us
the shortest way out. The shortest way out was through the wood-shed.
There were twenty-seven little white bowls of milk on the wood-shed
floor. There was a cat at each bowl. It sounded lappy! Some of the cats
were black. Some of the cats were gray. Some of the cats were white.

There was an old tortoise-shell cat. He had a crumpled ear. He had a
great scar across his nose. He had a broken leg that had mended crooked.

_Most_ of the cats were tortoise-shell _and_ black _and_ gray _and_
white! It looked pretty! It looked something the way a rainbow would
look if it was fur! And splashed with milk instead of water!

"How many quarts does it take?" said my Mother.

"_Quarts?_" said Old Mary. She sniffed. "_Quarts?_ It takes a whole
Jersey cow!"

The Blinded Lady called Rosalee to come back. I went with her. I held
her hand very hard for fear we would be frightened.

There was a White Kitten in the Blinded Lady's Lap. It was a white
Angora. It wasn't any bigger than a baby rabbit. It had a blue ribbon on
its neck. It looked very pure. Its face said "Ruthy, I'd like very much
to be your kitten!"

But the Blinded Lady's face didn't know I was there at all.

"Young Lassie," said the Blinded Lady. "What is the color of your
Derry's eyes?"

"Why--why--black!" said Rosalee.

"U-m-mmm," said the Blinded Lady. "Black?" She began to munch a
peppermint. "U-m-m-m," she said. She jerked her head. Her nose looked
pretty sharp. "That's right, Young Lassie!" she cried. "Love _early_!
Never mind what the old folks say! Sometimes there isn't any late! Love
all you can! Love----!" She stopped suddenly. She sank back in her
skirts again. And rocked! Her nose didn't look sharp any more. Her voice
was all whispers. "Lassie," she whispered, "when you choose your Peacock
Feather Fan--choose the one on the top