loved her dearly. She
always sat in the same place in that dear little room. Edith had only
that day made her a new red leather collar, and Muff looked very smart
in it. "Muff won't hurt the birds, Fred dear," said Edith, "she is not
like a common cat." Whatever points of dissimilarity there might he
between Muff and the cat race in general, in this particular she quite
resembled them; she loved birds, and would not be very nice as to the
manner of obtaining them. What was to be done? Fred had all manner of
projects in his head for teaching the canaries to fly out and in the
cage, to bathe, to perch on his finger, etc.; but if, whenever any one
chanced to leave the door of the room open, Muff were to bounce in, why
there was an end to all such schemes. In short, Muff would get the birds
by fair means or foul, there was no doubt of that, and Fred was
desperate. I cannot tell how many times Muff was called "a nasty cat,"
"a tiresome cat," "a vicious cat," and little Edith's heart was full,
for she did not believe any evil of her favourite; and to hear her so
maligned, seemed like a personal insult; but she bore it patiently. She
asked Emilie at bed time what she should do about Muff; she had so long
been accustomed to her seat by the sunny window in Edith's room, that to
try and tempt her from it she knew would be vain.

Emilie agreed with her, but hoped Muff would practise self-denial.
Before Edith lay down to rest that night, she again thought over all
that she had done through the day; again knelt down and asked for help
to overcome that which was sinful within her, and then lay down to
sleep. Edith was but a child, and she could not forget Muff; she
thought, and very truly, that there was a general wish to displace her
Muff. Not one in the house would be sorry to see Muff sent away she
know, and Margaret at supper time seemed so pleased to report of Muff's
designs. This thought made her love Muff all the more, but then there
were Fred's birds. It would be very sad if any of them should be lost
through her cat; what should she do? She wished to win Fred to love and
gentleness. Should she part with Muff? Miss Schomberg (aunt Agnes that
is) had expressed a wish for a nice quiet cat, and this, her beauty,
would just suit her. "Shall I take Muff to High-Street to-morrow? I
will," were her last thoughts, but the resolution cost her something,
and Edith's pillow was wet with tears. When she arose the next morning
she felt a