THE KITTEN 

By Tessa Harvey

    Velma was sitting on a rock by the shores of the beautiful lake. The rock was grey granite, pitted and fissured from wind and winter ice expanding in cracks and thawing again. Beautiful whorls of lichen coloured the rocks and tiny cups of moss grew in sheltered cracks.
    The lake water was icy always, but sparkled in the welcome sunlight. Suddenly she heard a little voice calling, "Tom, Tom! Smokey, Smokey!" Surprised, she turned, and a small boy was splashing through a nearby stream, singing softly to himself, then calling again.
    "Hello," Velma called gently. "Hello," the boy paused, "are you lost?" "I don't think so," she answered and suppressed a smile. "What about you?" "No, I am here on holly day, but I want my kittens to come too. So I am calling and looking for them." He turned to go.
    "Wait, Please," called Velma, as the child moved beyond the lake into the young fir trees. "Perhaps I am lost, "she ventured, as the boy showed no sign of listening. "Fine," he sighed heavily. "You are far too big to get losted. Didn't your family teach you anything?" He gazed up at her, critically, dark brown eyes watching her beneath his small furrowed brow.
    Brushing his black hair out of his eyes, he reluctantly allowed the woman to follow him. Carefully she reversed places so as to not offend him. "Perhaps we should share names?" "Well, Ok, I am Harry, three and a half." He held up three fingers and tried to bend a finger in half. "I am Mrs. Bryant, Velma." "My brother's teacher has that name," Harry remarked, his feet dragging. "Do you know him?"

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