"We must speak to him now," said Dennis, going steadily on, and dragging Maisie with him. "Perhaps he'll know of some one, if he can't have it himself. _You_ ask," he added hurriedly, as they came close to the doctor. Dr Price took off his hat, and smiled down very kindly at Maisie, as she put her question. She spoke hesitatingly, for the sight of Snip and Snap had reminded her of their habits. On most days their swift white forms were to be seen scouring over the country in search of rabbits, or other small defenceless creatures. Dr Price on horseback, and his terriers on foot, were well known for many miles round Fieldside, and Maisie could not help thinking them most unsuitable companions for the grey kitten. This seemed to strike the doctor himself. "Well now, that's very kind of you, Miss Maisie," he said, looking thoughtfully at the bowl of his pipe; "but the fact is I'm not much of a hand at cats myself. And then--there are the dogs, you see--" "Would they chase it?" asked Maisie, glancing at them. "Why, they're thoroughbred, you know," said the doctor apologetically. "What a pity!" said Maisie, who thought it must be some very bad quality. "Well," said the doctor, with a short laugh, "I like them all the better for it myself; but I'm afraid the kitten wouldn't stand much chance, and that's a fact." "Oh, I wouldn't let it come here for _anything_," said Maisie with a shiver. "Why do you keep such cruel dogs?" "As to that, you know, Miss Maisie," said the doctor, "it isn't crueller to hunt a cat than a fox." "But that's cruel too," said Maisie, "very cruel indeed." Here Dennis felt it time to interfere. "Don't be stupid, Maisie," he said; "you're only a girl. You don't understand. Of course, people must hunt." So here was another failure, for not only was Dr Price's home out of the question, but he could not think of any one who wanted a kitten. Everybody had cats; they seemed to be all over the place. If it was a puppy now. He cast an admiring glance at Snip and Snap, who stood in sprightly attitudes, one on each side of the little rough dog Peter, their eager bodies quivering, their short tails wagging, ready for the first signs of warfare. But Peter knew better. He was old and he was wise. He did not like Snip and Snap, but he was not going to be provoked into a fight in which he was sure to be worsted. So he held himself stiffly upright, uttered a low growl of contempt, and took no further notice of them. "And now," said Maisie, when they had said good-bye to Dr Price, and were on their way again, with Peter trotting in front, "there's really only one more chance left."