vyn's wool
from most of the knots and tangles, and putting the contents of the
basket into something like order.

"There!" she said; "that's as straight as I can make it."

"I don't see why you took so much trouble over it," said Philippa; "it
wasn't your fault--it was the kitten's."

"Well, the kitten couldn't put it straight," replied Maisie. "It wasn't
half so mischievous as Darkie at home, but I expect it feels strange
here just at first. When it gets to know you, it won't be so naughty."

She looked a little anxiously at the kitten, who was purring contentedly
in Philippa's arms.

"I hope," she added, "it will be a nice, well-behaved cat when it grows
up."

"It _ought_ to be the nicest of the three," said Philippa; "that's very
certain."

"Why?" asked Maisie.

"Well, you see," said Philippa, with her chin in the air, "it will have
such advantages here. It will sleep on my bed, and have cream for its
tea, and it will always wear a lovely ribbon on its neck, or perhaps a
collar with a bell. And it will have nothing to do but play, and never
be with common, low people."

Maisie looked thoughtful.

"The grey kitten's very nice and affectionate," she said, "though it
isn't pretty. It won't have advantages though, because it's got to go
and do hard work."

"What hard work?" asked Philippa.

"It's going to catch mice for old Sally's Eliza," replied Maisie, "so of
course it can't sleep in any one's bed--it will have to be up all night.
And I don't suppose it will have meals exactly except what it picks up.
And I'm _sure_ it won't wear a collar and a bell, because that would
frighten the mice away."

"Blanche will be better off than that," said Philippa; "she'll be a
lady."

"We shall be able to see, shan't we," said Maisie, "what sort of cats
they are when they grow up. And then we can settle which is the best--
Darkie, or Blanche, or the grey one."

"What do you mean by the best?" said Philippa. "Do you mean the
prettiest?"

"Oh dear, no," said Maisie. She pondered the question for some minutes,
and then added seriously: "I mean the one that's the greatest comfort to
the person it belongs to."

CHAPTER FIVE.

THE ROUND ROBIN.

And now that the white kitten was settled in its new home, the time was
come for the departure of the grey one, and the day fixed when it should
be taken to old Sally's cottage. Maisie felt the parting a good deal,
for it seemed to her that it was a very smal