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“My father would never allow a cat about. He’d likely break the thing’s neck.”
    â€œBut it would be my cat. I would keep it in my room and save part of my food for it. Please, at least go with me outside. I am afraid of the dog.”
    Robby took another backward step. “The dog wouldn’t hurt you, but you better forget the cat,” he said.
    Martha’s shoulders sagged and her eyes filled with tears. She turned away from the window. For a moment, Robby thought she had taken his advice, but then she went to the peg and removed her cloak. “I’m going out there,” she said. “Maybe I can at least hold her for a while.”
    It was Robby’s turn to sag. This girl was going to be a lot of bother, but he knew he’d better go with her. If she got even a scratch, the blame was sure to fall to him. “All right,” he said. “Just to hold it, though.” They went down the stairs, Martha moving much faster this time.
    Maybe his mother would forbid the trip. He led Martha through the kitchen, where Ma looked up from her dishpan. “Going out, are you? The fresh air might do you a bit of good, but, Martha, you won’t need that heavy cape.”
    The girl clutched the edges as if someone might try to take the wrap from her. “I get cold,” she murmured.
    â€œMartha’s got her eye on a kitten,” said Robby. “I’ve told her Da would never allow a cat in the house.”
    â€œI only want to hold it. Poor little thing is all alone and likely very hungry.” Martha started toward the back door.
    â€œI’ve tried to convince my husband to get a cat; cut down on mice, it would.” Ma shook her head. “The man is mightily against it.”
    Martha went out the door, and Robby followed. The Hare house almost completely covered the property, leaving only a small stretch of earth between the dwelling and the alley. There was a small bit of land where Ma had said her uncle once had a garden. She and Robby had decided in the winter that they too would have a garden. They would need to plant vegetables soon. The yard also held a clothesline for hanging laundry. Bits of grass poked up through the ground. Two trees grew in the yard, a large one near the house, the other, short and spindly, holding onto life near the edge of the property. Sitting on its lowest branch was the cat, with the dog still barking and jumping toward it.
    â€œGet! Rags, go on home now.” Robby waved his arms, and the dog tucked his tail between his legs and moved down the alley.
    â€œYou’re likely to get yourself scratched if you try to touch it,” Robby warned, but Martha paid him no heed.
    He hoped the kitten would climb higher when Martha approached, but it did not. “Nice kitty,” she crooned, “nice kitty, did that awful dog scare you?” Slowly she reached out a hand, and the cat allowed itself to be removed from the branch. For a moment, she held it out before her. “Isn’t she pretty?” she asked.
    â€œShe is,” said Robby. “That’s why you must not take her in, or even encourage her to stay around back here.” He paused for a moment, and then drew in a deep breath. “You may as well know the truth. My father is often a very cruel man. Sure, there are times when he doesn’t seem so bad. I used to enjoy those times, and believed he had changed his ways, but I was little then. Now I know his decent spells won’t last. He likes to hurt things that aren’t as strong as he is …” His voice faltered, but he went on. “Me, my mother, small animals. I’m telling you, he’d kill that kitten.” He snapped his fingers. “He’d kill it like that.”
    â€œOh!” Martha shifted the kitten so that she could have a free hand to lay on Robby’s shoulder. “How dreadful! It must be awful to be afraid of your own father. My father is always