They were as adorable as a box full of puppies. Kendra wanted to hug them all. “Would you like to hear the story of Dick Whittington’s cat?” she asked. She had told that one to Christopher so well that she knew it by heart.

A chorus of approval sounded. Laurel indicated a low chair in the center of the rag rug. “A good choice. I look forward to hearing it, too.”

Knowing her ability to deal with small children was being evaluated, Kendra settled on the chair in a flurry of skirts and started in the traditional way. “Once upon a time . . .” The children folded onto the floor around her, entranced.

Kendra acted out the parts, including the sounds of Bow Bells summoning Dick to stay in London because some day he would become Lord Mayor. She thought her meow for the cat was quite fine—it made the children laugh.

As Kendra recounted the old tale, she studied her audience. Some were too thin. A couple had fading bruises. Many wore clothing that was clean but patched and worn.

One little redheaded girl hung shyly at the edge of the circle. Not breaking the rhythm of the story, Kendra extended an arm and beckoned her closer. When the girl approached, Kendra put an arm around her thin shoulders and drew the child to her side. The little redhead gave a small sigh and relaxed against her.

When Dick Whittington and his cat had triumphed, Kendra started another story about a princess who would rather ride her pony than dress up in princess clothes. There was some autobiography in that one!

Laurel watched from her place by the doorway, approval on her face. As Kendra finished the princess story, young Emma returned, looking fortified by her tea.

Laurel said, “It’s time for your naps, my little friends. Say thank you to Miss Kendra!”

There was a chorus of thank yous and a number of hugs around Kendra’s lower legs. Then the children pulled ragged but clean blankets from a box by the toys and curled up on the floor under Emma’s watchful eye.

Kendra was smiling as Laurel guided her from the room. “You’ve a talent for working with the young ones,” Laurel said. “I hope you have lots more stories!”

Kendra laughed. “I’ve always been good at making them up. Besides, in my experience, small children usually like hearing favorite stories over and over.”

“Dick Whittington’s cat is destined to become a favorite,” Laurel said with a smile as she headed to the stairs that led to the building’s middle floor. “Now it’s time for the rest of the tour. After we go by the classrooms, we’ll visit the kitchens and dining room on the ground floor. All meals are prepared there and aspiring cooks are trained.”