Maisie was not quite so sure of this as her brother, though she too felt grave doubts about Philippa's behaviour. If she were in a nice mood, her visit might be pleasant, for there were plenty of things to show her at Fieldside, and plenty to do, if she would only be interested in them, and not have her "grown-up" manner. "I wonder what she'll say to Darkie," she said, as she sat thinking of this after breakfast. "She'll say Blanche is much prettier," answered Dennis; "she always says her things are nicer than ours." "She hasn't seen him beg yet," said Maisie. It was not long before Philippa had this opportunity, for when she was sitting at tea with her cousins that evening, she happened to look down at her side, and there was Darkie begging. He was the oddest little black figure possible, bolt upright, his bushy tail spread out at the back like a fan, and his paws neatly drooped in front. "Oh!" she exclaimed, laughing; "how lovely! What a clever cat!" "He always does it," said Dennis, with quiet pride. "We taught him." "I told you he begged," added Maisie. "Why don't you teach Blanche?" "I don't believe she could learn," said Philippa. "She's quite a nuisance at meal times. She stands up and claws and mews until she is fed. She doesn't give any peace." Maisie looked shocked. "That's not at all well-behaved," she said. "You oughtn't to let her do that." "I can't help it," answered Philippa. "I often box her ears, but it's no good. She's a greedy cat, I think. Not so nice as this one, and after all, black is a better colour than white, and Darkie has a bushy tail." Dennis looked triumphant, but Maisie was sorry to think that the white kitten was not turning out well; and though she had never liked it as much as the others, she felt it was not entirely its own fault. Philippa evidently did not know how to manage cats. She was now on the point of giving Darkie a large corner of buttered toast, when Dennis interfered. "You mustn't do that, please," he said firmly. "Darkie's _never_ fed at meals. He has his tea afterwards in his own dish." "Well!" said Philippa, looking very much surprised, "I _do_ call that cruel. You don't mean to say you let him sit up like that for nothing! Blanche wouldn't bear that. If we don't give her what she wants at once, she cries so loud that we're obliged to." "She's learned that of you, I suppose, hasn't she?" said Dennis. He spoke without any intention of offending his cousin, and did not mean to be rude; but Philippa drew herself up, and flushed a pale pink all over her face. "You're a rude boy," she said. Then after a pause, she gave a little nod at him, and added, "Mother says you've just the air of a little Hodge the ploughboy. So there!"