“I’m going to think, too,” Dot declared, sitting down beside Twaddles, to his great annoyance.

“You always talk,” he complained, as Dot pushed him over toward the wall.

Meg and Bobby postponed their thoughts till they had taken the kittens out to the garage and fed them. They begged a piece of rug from Norah and an old box from Sam, and they made a comfortable bed.

When they came in from their labors, Twaddles was still sitting on the stair step, but Dot had disappeared.

“How’s your brain working, Twaddles?” asked Bobby, as older brothers do.

“It’s working,” Twaddles answered soberly.

Norah said supper was ready at that moment, so there wasn’t time to find out what Twaddles was thinking. And after supper came bedtime at its usual fast pace the four little Blossoms were sure that something happened to the clock between supper and bedtime; the hands came unscrewed, or something, and went around twice as fast as they worked the rest of the day.

“We’ll find homes for the kittens when we come home this afternoon,” Meg promised at the breakfast table the next morning. “I’ve fed them, Mother, and can’t Dot and Twaddles take them some milk this noon? Miss Mason wants us to stay and practice the songs for Thanksgiving.”

Norah had put up a neat little lunch for Meg and another for Bobby and the twins were almost beside themselves with envy. Would the time ever come, they thought, when they could go to school and sometimes have to stay over the noon hour and not come home to lunch? They were sure there could be nothing more exciting, except the actual going to school, than taking one’s lunch in a boy and eating it with a crowd of other hungry children.

“Let’s go see the kittens,” Twaddles suggested, as soon as Bobby and Meg had gone.

Dot trotted after him to the garage. They found Sam busily picking up little furry bodies and scolding under his breath.

“These blamed cats,” he told the children, “don’t know when they’re well off. They keep climbing out of that box and first thing you know I’m going to step on one; then there will be a nice squalling.”

Dot and Twaddles helped him stuff the kittens into the box and he pulled the rug over the top, saying that if it was dark enough inside, perhaps they would go to sleep.

“I have to take your father out to the foundry,” said Sam, opening the big door. “Now see that I don’t run over any live stock on my way out.”

The twins watched him take the car and saw to it that no kittens were in his path. As soon as he had gone, Twaddles looked at Dot.

“Let you and me find homes for ’em,” he said distinctly.

“Homes for the kittens?” Dot asked doubtfully.

“Of course. We can do it,” declared Twaddles with magnificent confidence.

“Suppose people don’t want them,” Dot offered. “Lots of people have cats.”

“Well, lots haven’t,” was Twaddles’ reply to this argument. “We’ll keep going till we find the folks who haven’t any.”

But Dot was not feeling ambitious that morning.

“They’re awfully heavy to carry,” she said, “and they cry.”

Then Twaddles showed that he had spent much time and thought on his plan.

“We’ll only carry one for a sample!” he told her triumphantly. “A cat is a cat, isn’t it? And we’ll explain they have different colors but look just alike except for that. We’ll go to different houses, the way Mr. Hambert does, and let folks order a kitten. Then we can take it to them.”

“Mr. Hambert has samples!” cried Dot, beginning to understand. “Easter he has a nest and Christmas he has spun sugar Santa Clauses and he only takes one. We can do it, can’t we, Twaddles?”

“Didn’t I just say we could?” demanded Twaddles. “Which one is the best sample?”

They hastily upset the box and the kittens rolled out on the floor. Dot wanted to take a black one and Twaddles leaned toward the yellow one, so, not without some argument, they finally compromised on the “tiger” kitten.

Mother Blossom and Aunt Polly were busy in the house, and when Twaddles and Dot came in to get their hats and coats and explained they thought they could find a home for a kitten, no one objected to their going out. They could go anywhere in Oak Hill with perfect safety and they knew just about every one in the town.

“We won’t say anything about finding homes for all of the kittens,” said Twaddles as he stuffed the “sample” inside his coat, “because if we can’t get folks to take them, Bobby and Meg will laugh. Where’ll we go first, Dot?”

“The grocery store,” said Dot, who couldn’t get Mr. Hambert and his methods of doing business out of her mind.

“Grocery stores don’t want cats,” Twaddles argued. Nevertheless he turned up the street that would lead him to the main store in Oak Hill, where kind Mr. Hambert was a clerk when he wasn’t out delivering orders in the country.

“They do, too,” shot back Dot. “They need cats to keep the mice away Meg said so once. Anyway, we can ask ’em.”

There were a number of people in the store lined up before the counter and the twins had to await their turn. They were so interested in watching one of the clerks slice ham with a machine, that when Mr. Hambert came up to them, smiling, and asked what he could do for them, they jumped.

“We don’t want to buy anything,” said Twaddles hesitatingly.

“Then you must be selling something,” Mr. Hambert laughed good-naturedly.

“No but we came to see if you didn’t want a cat,” Twaddles announced a bit jerkily. “We we brought you a sample!” and he pulled the little kitten from his coat and held it out to the astonished grocery clerk.

“Good gracious!” said Mr. Hambert “Are you selling cats?”

“We’re not selling them,” Twaddles insisted. “We’re getting homes for them. This is a sample.”

Mr. Hambert began to laugh and so did several of the customers who had been listening.

“Come, now, Hambert, you do need a cat,” said the man who was waiting for the sliced ham. “Didn’t you tell me last week your old Minnie died? Now here’s her successor. All ready delivered at your door and no trouble for you at all.”

“I can’t take cats,” Mr. Hambert retorted. “Tell you what you do, Twaddles, go into the office and see what Mr. Morris has to say.”

Mr. Morris was the owner of the store and he had a desk in a small private office far back from the counters. Twaddles marched down the aisle and Dot after him. They found Mr. Morris reading a newspaper and looking as though he might not be very busy. He smiled when he saw them.

“Hello!” he said, “what brings you calling?”

“Don’t you want a nice kitten, Mr. Morris?” asked Twaddles persuasively. “It will grow up and catch mice and rats, and it won’t need much to eat. If Minnie is dead, you really need a cat, don’t you?”

Well, it took several minutes to make the grocery man understand what they were trying to do, and then he laughed and they had to wait till he wiped his eyes and could speak plainly. But, after all this, Mr. Morris said he would be very glad to take the kitten and it could live in the store and would be sure of a comfortable home.

“But we can’t leave this one it’s a sample,” Dot explained earnestly. “We’ll bring you your kitten this afternoon it will be just like this one, only a different color.”

“Are you sure it will be as good a mouser and as sweet-tempered and as pretty?” demanded Mr. Morris. “I wouldn’t want to be disappointed.”

The twins assured him that all the kittens were lovely and that gave him another thought. He wanted to know how many there were.

“Seven,” said Twaddles, “and Mother said seven are too many to keep.”

“I agree with your mother,” Mr. Morris said. “And I believe, if you go to see my sister, Mrs. Tracy, that she will be glad to take a kitten; she’s expecting her little grandson to come for a visit next week and she would be glad to have a pet ready for him. You know where Mrs. Tracy lives, don’t you? Over on Hammond Square?”

Twaddles and Dot knew, and they hurried over to Hammond Square eagerly. Sure enough, Mrs. Tracy was glad to have a kitten, and like her brother, she wanted to keep the “sample.” But when matters were explained to her and she understood that she could have her kitten that afternoon, she was quite satisfied.

“That makes two,” said Dot, as they went down the steps.

Finding homes for the five other kittens wasn’t so easy. The twins went to every house where they knew any one and some of these people already had cats and others didn’t want any cats. But they listened politely, though they always laughed, and some of them told the twins of friends who might be glad to have a kitten.

The poor little “sample” was growing quite rough looking and frowsy, from being pulled in and out of Twaddles’ coat so many times, and it was almost noon when they had disposed of all but one cat.

“Let’s go ask Miss Alder,” suggested Dot as they passed a handsome house set in a circle of evergreen trees.

“She’ll chase us,” Twaddles argued. “She can’t stand children they make her nervous.”

Dot had heard this, too Miss Alder was a wealthy and elderly woman who lived alone except for two maids. She didn’t have much to do with her neighbors and she had nothing at all to do with the children in Oak Hill. She didn’t like them and most of them were afraid of her.

“You needn’t come, if you don’t want to, but I’m going to ask her,” said Dot, turning in at the path which led to the white doorway of the Alder house.

“Well I’ll come you’ll need to show her the sample,” Twaddles murmured, wondering what made his knees feel so queer.