"Now you take it and nurse it a little," she continued, putting the kitten, still half asleep, into Philippa's arms, "and I'll try to get the wool straight. What shall you call it? We call ours `Darkie,' because he's all black, you see. Dennis wanted to call him `Nigger,' but I didn't like that, and Aunt Katharine says Darkie means just the same." Philippa thought of a good many names, but was not satisfied with any of them, and still less with those suggested by Maisie. "_I_ know," she exclaimed at last; "I've got a beautiful name that just suits it. I shall call it `Blanche.' That's French for white, you know," she added for Maisie's instruction. Maisie did not know, for she had not begun to learn French, but she quite agreed that Blanche was a lovely name, and seemed made for the white kitten. After much patient effort she succeeded in untwisting Miss Mervyn'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?"