don't much think Miss Hurst will want it," said Maisie, as they
turned up the steep lane; "because, you see, she's got such a very pet
cat. Else that would be a very good home."

"She might like it for a kitchen cat," said Dennis, "to catch rats and
mice."

"_Ye-es_," said Maisie. She did not much like the idea of the grey
kitten in such a position. Still, Miss Hurst was so very kind and
gentle, that it was likely even the kitchen cat would be well treated in
her house.

The vicarage reached, however, and the old question put, it turned out
that Maisie had been right. Miss Hurst, who was a meek-faced little
lady with very smooth hair and a kind smile, was afraid she could not
have two cats. It might upset Mopsy. And Mopsy was such an old friend,
that it would not be fair to make him unhappy for the sake of a new one.
She was afraid she must say no. So the grey kitten was again refused,
and when the children set out on their farther journey, Maisie was quite
in low spirits. Nobody wanted the grey kitten.

"We've got two chances left," said Dennis, trying to console her. "And
if _I_ were the kitten, I'd much rather live with Dr Price than at the
vicarage."

"But you're not a kitten--you're a boy," said Maisie despairingly, "and
that makes a great deal of difference."

"Dr Price is splendid, _I_ think," continued Dennis. "Just see how he
can ride, and how he cures people, and how kind he is to them about
their bills."

"Why do you suppose Aunt Katharine has Dr Smith over from Upwell to see
us when we're ill," asked Maisie, "when Dr Price is quite close, and so
clever?"

"Well," said Dennis gravely, "you mustn't say anything, but I
_believe_--that is, I've heard one or two of them say in the village--
that he sometimes--is--like Tuvvy, you know."

"Oh!" said Maisie, with her eyes very wide open.

"And that, you see," went on Dennis instructively, "is very bad for a
doctor, because he may mix up the wrong things together and kill people.
But for all that, they say they'd rather have him, even when he's a
little `nervous,' than any one else, because he's so clever and so kind.
Why, he sat up all night with Widow Hutchins's son, who had sergestion
of the lungs, and then he wouldn't take a penny because she's so poor."

"What a pity he's ever like Tuvvy," said Maisie.

"And then, you see," continued Dennis, who loved to repeat the gossip he
picked up in the village, "he's so dreadfully fond of horses a