Maisie did her best to look on the bright side of the misfortune, but she could not help thinking of all the dangers the grey kitten was likely to meet. There were so many dogs in Upwell, dogs like Snip and Snap who delighted in chasing cats. There were carts and carriages too, and many things which the kitten was far too young to understand. Its ignorance of the world would lead it into all sorts of perils, and there was little chance that it would ever be heard of again. She tried to break the bad news as gently as possible to Madam, who seemed to listen with indifference, and presently fell off to sleep, as though there were no such thing as lost kittens in the world. Dennis also did not show very much concern; but he was just now so busy with other matters that perhaps this was not surprising. CHAPTER SEVEN. FOUND! Meanwhile, what had become of the grey kitten? To learn this we must go back to the time when it began its life in the tinsmith's house at Upwell under the care of old Sally's Eliza. It was kept in the kitchen at first, but by degrees, as it got used to the place, it was allowed to run about where it liked, and its favourite room was the little back parlour opening into the shop. Now the shop was forbidden ground, and it was always chased back if it tried to enter: so perhaps it was for this very reason that it seemed to have fixed its mind on doing it, and one afternoon the chance came. Its mistress was busy behind the counter serving some customers: the parlour door was open; no one noticed the grey kitten, and it marched boldly in. Pleased to find itself in the midst of so many new and shining things, it played about happily for some time, trying to catch the merry shadowy figures which danced on all the bright surfaces around. It was great fun at first, to make springs and dashes at them with its soft little paws, but finding they were never to be caught, it got tired, and looked about for fresh amusement. Unluckily its eye fell on the open door leading into the busy street, and without a thought of fear it trotted out, and cantered, tail on high, gaily down the pavement. Too young to understand that it was in the midst of dangers, it saw nothing to alarm, and much that was amusing in all it passed. Now and then it stopped on its way to play with a straw, or chase a fly, and by degrees got a long distance from the tinsmith's shop. It was now late in the afternoon, a drizzling rain had begun to fall, and it was so dull and cold that it was almost like winter. The kitten began to feel wet and miserable. It looked round for shelter and warmth, shook one little damp paw, and gave a tiny mew. "Hulloa!" cried a rough loud voice, "what's this?" A rough hand grasped it, and held it up high above the ground.