One day last winter I found a poor old mother cat dead on the shore , lying against the skin-and-bone bodies of her three little kittens . She 'd died trying to shelter 'em . She had her poor stiff paws around 'em . Master , I cried . Then I swore . Then I carried them poor little kittens home and fed 'em up and found good homes for 'em . I knew the woman who left the cat and when she come back this summer I jest went over the harbor and told her my opinion of her . It was rank meddling , but I do love meddling in a good cause . '' `` How did she take it ? '' asked Gilbert . `` Cried and said she ` did n't think . ' I says to her , says I , ` Do you s ` pose that 'll be held for a good excuse in the day of Jedgment , when you 'll have to account for that poor old mother 's life ? The Lord 'll ask you what He give you your brains for if it was n't to think , I reckon . ' I do n't fancy she 'll leave cats to starve another time . '' `` Was the First Mate one of the forsaken ? '' asked Anne , making advances to him which were responded to graciously , if condescendingly . `` Yes . I found HIM one bitter cold day in winter , caught in the branches of a tree by his durn-fool ribbon collar . He was almost starving . If you could have seen his eyes , Mistress Blythe !
He was nothing but a kitten , and he 'd got his living somehow since he 'd been XXXXX until he got hung up .
Anne Blythe First Gilbert Jedgment Lord Master brains left paws