Tuvvy's movements were nimble and neat, for he was a clever workman, and knew what he was about: now and then he would cast a swift glance round at Dennis out of his bright black eyes, but he never paused in his work to talk, and there was seldom any sound in the barn but that of the saw and hammer, or the whirring of the lathe. His skin was so very dark, and his hair so black and long, that people called him a gypsy, and Dennis knew that he was a little wild sometimes, because old Sally shook her head when she mentioned him. That meant that Tuvvy was not always quite sober, which was a great pity, because he was so clever, that he could earn a great deal if he kept steady. In the barn, however, he was as steady and hard-working as a man could be, and what his conduct was out of it, did not at all affect Dennis's attachment and admiration. Maisie always knew, if she missed her brother during one of their visits to the farm, that she should find him in the barn staring at Tuvvy at his work; and he had done this so much, that he began to feel as though he had helped to make Mr Solace's carts and barrows. All this made him quite ready to agree with Maisie's suggestion, for although he was not very anxious about the grey kitten's welfare, he thought there might be a chance of slipping round to see how Tuvvy was getting on. "Where shall we go first?" said Maisie, as they started on their expedition, with Peter, the little rough dog, barking round them. "The vicarage comes first, and then Dr Price, and then old Sally." "All right," said Dennis; "that's the best last, and the worst first." The vicarage stood on a little hill close to the church, looking down on the village street. "I 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."