d passed without her knowing it.

So, as she told Dan, it had all been better since the kitten came, and
somehow it seemed to make a part of all the fancies and thoughts that
passed through her mind, as she lay dreaming, yet awake, on her couch.
Becky had never made "plans in her head," as she called them, while she
was well and strong, and could run about all day. But now that her
limbs had to be idle, her mind began to grow busy, and though she could
not move out of the dusky kitchen, she took long journeys in fancy, and
saw many strange things with her eyes fast shut. Some of these she
would describe to Dan, and some she kept quite to herself; but now,
since hearing of Dennis Chester's Round Robin, they all took one form.
They were always connected with him or his sister, and what he had done
for her father, and curiously enough the grey kitten seemed to belong to
them, and she seldom thought of one without the other. If it could have
spoken, how many interesting facts it could have told her about its life
at Fieldside with Dennis and Maisie! Perhaps its little purring song
was full of such memories, as it lay pressed up so close to Becky's
cheek. At any rate it contrived in some way to get into most of her
dreams, whether asleep or awake. But though her life was on the whole
happier than it had been, there were still some very hard days for Becky
to bear, days when the kitten's merriest gambols were not enough to make
her forget her pain.

They were generally days when Mrs Tuvvy had "run short," as she called
it, and left very little for dinner, so that; Becky grew faint and low
for want of food. For Mrs Tuvvy, even when her husband brought home his
wages regularly, was not a good manager. On Saturday night and Sunday
she would provide a sort of feast, and have everything of the best.
After that the supplies became less and less each day, until on Friday
or Saturday there was not much besides bread and cheese, or a red
herring, until Tuvvy brought home his wages again. On such uncertain
fare poor Becky did not thrive, and she always knew that towards the end
of the week she should have a "bad day" of pain and weariness.

"There ain't much dinner for yer," said Mrs Tuvvy one morning as she
stood ready to go out charing. "I've put it on the shelf. Don't you go
giving any to that foolish kitten, and I'll see and bring summat home
for supper."

The door banged, and Becky was alone. She and the kitten woul