"Oh Kitty, Kitty, my own Kitty! Whatever shall I do?" This was certainly most puzzling, and so unlike anything in the kitten's experience, that she could not make out what part her mistress wished her to play. She got out of the difficulty at last by going snugly to sleep, and presently, worn out by grief and crying, Becky was quiet too, and began to take comfort in the thought that she should soon be able to tell Dan all about it. He had often helped her out of troubles before, and perhaps he would think of some way now. She lay with her eyes fixed patiently on the door, waiting for him to appear; but she knew before that happened the door would open twice, once for Mrs Tuvvy, and once for her father, who both got home earlier. Becky had seen the same things so often from her dim corner, that she could have described them with her eyes shut, and it was all just the same this afternoon. A heavy, flat-footed step, and Mrs Tuvvy entered with a tired, ill-used look on her face, cast off her shawl, untied the strings of her bonnet, and tipped it forward on her head. Becky would hardly have known her mother without her bonnet, for she wore it indoors and out. Then, talking all the time in a high, drawling voice, she proceeded to get the evening meal ready. If it were early in the week, there would be something savoury to cook, which she had brought home with her; or, perhaps, only a small piece of cold pork for Tuvvy's special benefit. To-night there were some slices of ham to broil, and the room was soon full of the sound and smell of her preparations. The door opened again, and Tuvvy himself swung in, with a nod and a smile, and "How's yourself, Becky?" In times not long gone by Tuvvy had been used to enter in a very different manner, but he always came in steadily now, and sat down hungrily to his meals, however scanty they might be. Last of all, Dan, rosy-faced and cheerful, burst into the room; and then supper began, with a great clatter of knives and forks. Becky could not eat to-night, for she had far too much on her mind, but she knew it would be quite impossible to say anything until the meal was over. It seemed to last a long, long time, but at length Tuvvy gave his chair a little push back from the table, took his pipe and an old newspaper from his pocket, and settled himself to read. Mrs Tuvvy pulled herself out of her seat with a weary sigh, and began to journey backward and forwards with the empty dishes to the back kitchen. Now was the time. "Dan," said Becky, "come here; I've got summat to tell yer." Dan left off unlacing his boots, and at once went to his sister's side, but poor Becky's heart was so big with her sad story, that it was some time before she could make it plain to him. When he did understand it, he sat silent for a long while, with his lips pursed up, as though he were whistling. "Say summat, Dan," cried Becky, in an agony at last.