and
Maisie would know his name, and where he lived, and how many brothers
and sisters he had, and what his father earned a week, and how long he
had left school. Why should she not make these inquiries, and
afterwards, perhaps, she could give him some new clothes, and some money
to buy sweets. Then he would be grateful, as Tuvvy was to Dennis, and
be willing to do all sorts of things for her. Suddenly, fired by this
resolve, she jumped off the window-seat, intent on running down into the
garden, when Miss Mervyn came into the room.

"Well, my dear Philippa," she said kindly, "have you enjoyed your
visit?"

"Very much," answered Philippa ungraciously. "I hate coming home.
There's nothing to do."

"Oh, come," said Miss Mervyn, with an air of forced cheerfulness, "you
mustn't say that, with all these things to amuse you. Have you wound up
the musical box?"

"I don't care for it," said Philippa, with as much disdain as the kitten
had shown for the clockwork mouse.

Miss Mervyn's glance fell upon Blanche, who was washing her face
delicately with the tip of one paw.

"How pleased the kitten must have been to see you again!" she remarked.

"You're just as wrong as you can be about that," said Philippa
decidedly. "She wasn't a bit pleased, and I believe she'd rather go
back to the stable."

"Well, to be sure, it _is_ the proper place for her, isn't it?" agreed
Miss Mervyn, with a look of relief; "and I daresay she's really happier
there."

"But, all the same, I don't mean to let her go," added Philippa; "I
shall keep her with me more than ever, and teach her to be very fond of
me."

"Where are you going, my dear? it is just tea-time," asked Miss Mervyn,
as Philippa left the room hurriedly after this remark.

"Into the garden," Philippa called back. "You needn't come," and she
ran down-stairs as fast as she could. Her mind was so set upon doing
good to the poor boy in the garden, that it did not once strike her that
there was some one nearer home to whom she ought to be kind. Poor Miss
Mervyn! How often Philippa worried her with her whims and naughtiness,
and yet how patient and good she was! But that seemed natural to
Philippa. It would have been quite as strange for Miss Mervyn to be
cross and selfish, as for Blanche the kitten to be meek and
well-behaved.

When Philippa reached the spot where the boy knelt, hard at work, she
came to a standstill, and hardly knew how to begin the conversation. It