"You know," continued Philippa, much too excited by the discovery to think of Becky's feelings, "Maisie Chester's my cousin, sister to Dennis who was so kind to your father." Becky nodded. "Well, their cat had three kittens--a black one, a white one, and a grey one. They kept the black one, and gave the white one to me on my birthday, but the grey one got lost. It was sent to the tinsmith's in Upwell, and it ran away, so, of course," ended Philippa, pointing triumphantly at the small form in Becky's arms, "that's it. Won't Maisie be glad! She always liked it the best, and she's always talking about it now." Before Becky could say a word, and, indeed, before she had got the dreadful fact into her mind that the kitten belonged to some one else, Miss Mervyn's entrance put a stop to any further explanation. She was anxious for Philippa to come away at once, and Philippa herself, full of her great discovery, was equally anxious to go, for she wanted to tell Dennis and Maisie the news without delay. They had tried to find the kitten for such a long while, and now she had been clever enough to do it, all by herself! Might they drive straight to Fieldside, she asked, instead of going home; and in her eagerness, and the bustle of departure, she almost forgot to say good-bye to Becky at all. Then the big empty basket was carried out to the pony-carriage, Philippa's slim, white figure floated after it, there _was_ a clatter of wheels, the scramble of the pony's feet, and Becky was alone. Had it been a dream? Had Philippa really been there? What dreadful thing had she said? Maisie's grey kitten! Could it, oh, could it really be true? Perhaps it was a bad dream, after all. Becky glanced down on the floor where Philippa had unpacked the basket. There, just as she had left them, were all the nice things she had brought. Eggs, cakes, jelly in a basin, neat packets of arrowroot--it was no dream. She had really been, and brought them all with her, but what were they compared to what she would take away? What were all the good things in the world, if the grey kitten were to be Becky's friend and playfellow no longer? How could she do without her? Poor Becky threw herself back on her couch, and covered her face with her hands in despair. The kitten seeing this, thought her mistress was going to take a nap, and at once settled herself in her usual place, with her paws planted on Becky's chest, and her green eyes lazily blinking into her face. They had passed many an hour together in this position, but to-day the kitten noticed something strange, for presently one shining tear and then another crept slowly between her mistress's closed fingers. This was some new game or joke, and she at once began to join in it, by patting at them softly, taking care not to put out her claws, and purring to show her satisfaction. What was her surprise when Becky suddenly caught her tightly to her breast, and bursting into heart-broken tears, exclaimed: