“I’m profoundly sorry if Kit minds,” said Mrs. Berkley, gently. “I think Kit means us to understand that he does mind. Anne is a dear girl; she is worth loving. But I’ve no doubt it will make you a nicer boy than ever to carry a cross, though we can’t endure seeing your young shoulders bend, dear Kit, and you are nice enough now, in all conscience! Little Anne will stand by! You will have lots of help, dear, and win through with benefit from the experience. Little Anne has been asking when she should see you. Would you like to see her?” Mrs. Berkley rose and laid her arm over Kit’s shoulder as she would have over her Peter. Kit rested his head against her for a moment, and felt better. “You know I lost two children between Joan and Peter, and one between Peter and Anne, Kit, so I know that denial is good for us. It taught me a great deal to relinquish the babies that I loved,” Mrs. Berkley said, softly. “Oh, what a peach, what a dear, sweet, good, good woman you are!” Kit exclaimed, ashamed that he had seemed to complain of a loss that was but a denial of his hopes. “Surest thing you know I want to see little Anne! I’ll go up, if I may? You don’t think I’ll be exciting and bring on fever? I wouldn’t consider myself that sort. And when may she have a kitten, Mrs. Berkley? Miss Abercrombie has bought her a white Angora that gets me, and I’m sure will make it necessary to put a strait waistcoat over little Anne’s gown!” “Could anything be luckier?” Mrs. Berkley demanded of space. “Anne has begged me to get her a pet that may stay with her on the bed. She asked for a kitten, a puppy, a rabbit, or a small monkey, and she added that if I couldn’t find any of these beasties she’d try to love a white mouse, though the poor little heroine, longing for a comrade, shuddered as she said it! Her strong preference was for a kitten, an everyday kitten. I’m sure I don’t know what will happen when she sees yours!” “It’s the cream of creation!” declared Kit. “But it isn’t mine; it’s Miss Abercrombie’s. She didn’t want me to say so, but of course I should.” Again Joan glanced at her mother. They wondered if Helen was to solve Kit’s difficulty, after all. “You are going to lunch with us,” said Mrs. Berkley, and Kit did not demur. “You shall see Anne after luncheon. You won’t mind the baby? We bring her to the table, in her high chair, inherited from Anne. She pounds, but otherwise behaves with decorum.” “The baby and little Anne--but little Anne first in order, by your leave, Joan--seem to me the most desirable of comrades to-day,” said Kit. Mrs. Berkley smiled on him and patted his shoulder. “Good boy and true instinct!” she approved him.