sie's grey kitten!"

Maisie's grey kitten! Becky clutched her pet closely, and looked up
with eyes full of terror. How could it be any one's kitten but hers?

"You know," continued Philippa, much too excited by the discovery to
think of Becky's feelings, "Maisie Chester's my cousin, sister to Dennis
who was so kind to your father."

Becky nodded.

"Well, their cat had three kittens--a black one, a white one, and a grey
one. They kept the black one, and gave the white one to me on my
birthday, but the grey one got lost. It was sent to the tinsmith's in
Upwell, and it ran away, so, of course," ended Philippa, pointing
triumphantly at the small form in Becky's arms, "that's it. Won't
Maisie be glad! She always liked it the best, and she's always talking
about it now."

Before Becky could say a word, and, indeed, before she had got the
dreadful fact into her mind that the kitten belonged to some one else,
Miss Mervyn's entrance put a stop to any further explanation. She was
anxious for Philippa to come away at once, and Philippa herself, full of
her great discovery, was equally anxious to go, for she wanted to tell
Dennis and Maisie the news without delay. They had tried to find the
kitten for such a long while, and now she had been clever enough to do
it, all by herself!

Might they drive straight to Fieldside, she asked, instead of going
home; and in her eagerness, and the bustle of departure, she almost
forgot to say good-bye to Becky at all. Then the big empty basket was
carried out to the pony-carriage, Philippa's slim, white figure floated
after it, there _was_ a clatter of wheels, the scramble of the pony's
feet, and Becky was alone.

Had it been a dream? Had Philippa really been there? What dreadful
thing had she said? Maisie's grey kitten! Could it, oh, could it
really be true? Perhaps it was a bad dream, after all. Becky glanced
down on the floor where Philippa had unpacked the basket. There, just
as she had left them, were all the nice things she had brought. Eggs,
cakes, jelly in a basin, neat packets of arrowroot--it was no dream.
She had really been, and brought them all with her, but what were they
compared to what she would take away? What were all the good things in
the world, if the grey kitten were to be Becky's friend and playfellow
no longer? How could she do without her?

Poor Becky threw herself back on her couch, and covered her face with
her hands in despair. The kitten