It was a whole lot colder when Samuel and his father left Mr. Snow’s tie-up, each carrying a tin lantern. The clouds weighed down the sky, and Samuel wondered if the blowing trees would bend over beneath all that gray.
“Is our trading done?” Samuel asked.
Papa looked up at the dark sky. “The storm may hold off yet,” he said. “We’ll stop to see the Perrys.”
The first flakes of snow began to fall.
Samuel put out his tongue and tried to catch them.
“Keep up,” said Papa. “It’s a long road . . .”
“. . . on a short day,” said Samuel.
They turned onto Stone Hill Road and up to the Perrys’ house. In the dark of the barn, Mr. Perry was threshing beans with his son, Georgie. “Welcome, Jonathan,” said Mr. Perry. “I haven’t seen a soul come up this road for a week or more—and none with tin lanterns!” He leaned against his flail.
“From Frank Snow,” said Papa. “Good as new.”
Samuel held his lantern up for Mr. Perry to see.
“We have kittens in the farther stall,” said Georgie.
Papa nodded, and Samuel ran to find them. They were all black as night and hard to see in the shadows, so Samuel and Georgie knelt down and Samuel held out his hand. But the kittens arched their backs and hissed and ran against the back of the stall—all the kittens except one, who had a little bit of white around his nose. He tottered toward Samuel and leaned his head against his fingers.
They didn’t have long to play. Samuel’s father called before he had even held the white-nosed kitten.
Papa was still standing with Mr. Perry by the threshed beans, but he wasn’t holding the two tin lanterns. Those were hanging from a beam. A bright candle was shining in each one, and the barn wasn’t so dark anymore.
They walked together to the Perrys’ house, and in the kitchen, Mrs. Perry handed Samuel a warm sugar doughnut. “Next time you’ll come for a longer visit, Jonathan,” she said.
Papa nodded.
“We can play with the kittens,” said Georgie. “Maybe by then, they’ll be old enough to leave their mother and you can take one home.”
Samuel nodded, and he thought about the kitten with the little bit of white around his nose and wished again, just a little bit, it wasn’t a brown-eyed cow his mother was wanting.
Then Mr. Perry handed Samuel’s father a large blue book. “I hope you enjoy poetry,” he said to Samuel.
Papa put the book under his coat.
Samuel, who did not want to lie, stayed as quiet as the white-nosed kitten.