"Don't cry so, Debby," he urged her; consoling her more by his tone than his words, "be brave, old girl. He--he--poor little chap--he--won't suffer any more. He--won't have to be given away now." Keith found it very hard to find anything comforting to say. In fact, he would have been glad to have been somewhere quite alone, that he might have shed a few tears unobserved, himself. "Anyhow, he enjoyed his life--as long--as it lasted. You made him awfully happy." "But he had only had six weeks and two days," sobbed Debby, "and I loved him best of all, he was so ugly, and people laughed at him. Oh, why couldn't he have stayed where I put him! Oh, Rudolph, you dear naughty darling, I loved you so." Keith clasped her closer, "Never mind, old girl; don't cry, Debby." Debby's face was bowed on his other arm. Suddenly she stretched out a groping arm. "Handkerchief please, I--I lost mine." "I--I am awfully sorry, but mine is spread over Rudolph." "Never mind, don't take it away from him." Debby's tears flew fast again. "But I wish I knew where mine was, it's--it's rather awkward." At that moment, though, the rest of the family came up, and Audrey, who, true to a habit taught her by her grandmother, always carried two, provided the little mourner with the much-needed handkerchief. But though she provided for her wants Audrey was thoroughly vexed and upset with the little mourner. It seemed to her that the two children really did go out of their way to spoil everyone's enjoyment. Her eye fell on Tom standing close beside her. "It all comes of your naughtiness in the first place," she said irritably, "if you hadn't brought all these animals up here we might all have had some pleasure, and Rudolph would have been alive and happy. Now you and Debby have the satisfaction of knowing that by your behaviour you have spoilt the day for everyone, and killed a poor little helpless kitten." Audrey was not observant or she would have noticed her little brother's white face and quivering lips. If she had been sympathetic she would have understood that the sorrow which filled his heart was doubled, trebled, by the knowledge that his act--innocent little joke though it was, was at the bottom of the tragedy--but Audrey understood neither. She was annoyed and she wanted to hurt. Mr. Carlyle, who, if he had not heard all, had seen more than Audrey was capable of seeing, went over and put his arm around his little son's shoulders protectingly. He knew what the boy was enduring--that he was learning in that hour a lesson which would remain with him all his life.