“His name is St. Anthony,” said Erica. “Oh, I hope, by the bye, you won't object to that; it was no disrespect to St. Anthony at all, but only that he always will go and preach to my gold fish. We'll make him do it now to show you. Come along Tony, and give them a sermon, there's a good little kit!” She put him on a side table, and he at once rested his front paws on a large glass bowl and peered down at the gold fish with great curiosity. “I believe he would have drowned himself sooner or later, like Gray's cat, so I dare say it is a good thing for him to leave. You will be kind to him, won't you?” Brian promised that he should be well attended to, and, indeed there was little doubt that St. Anthony would from that day forth be lapped in luxury. He went away with his new master very contentedly, Erica following them to the door with farewell injunctions. “And you'll be sure to butter his feet well or else he won't stay with you. Good bye, dear Tony. Be a good little cat!” Brian was pleased to have this token from his Undine, but at the same time he could not help seeing that she cared much more about parting with the kitten than about saying good bye to him. Well, it was something to have that lucky St. Anthony, who had been fondled and kissed. And after all it was Erica's very childishness and simplicity which made her so dear to him. As soon as they were out of sight, Erica, with the thought of the separation beginning to weigh upon her, went back to her mother. They knew that this was the last quiet time they would have together for many long months. But last days are not good days for talking. They spoke very little. Every now and then Mrs. Raeburn would make some inquiry about the packing or the journey, or would try to cheer the child by speaking of the house they would have at the end of the two years. But Erica was not to be comforted; a dull pain was gnawing at her heart, and the present was not to be displaced by any visions of a golden future. “If it were not for leaving you alone, mother, I shouldn't mind so much,” she said, in a choked voice. “But it seems to me that you have the hardest part of all.” “Aunt Jean will be here, and Tom,” said Mrs. Raeburn. “Aunt Jean is very kind,” said Erica, doubtfully. “But she doesn't know how to nurse people. Tom is the one hope, and he has promised always to tell me the whole truth about you; so if you get worse, I shall come home directly.” “You mustn't grudge me my share of the work,” said Mrs. Raeburn. “It would make me very miserable if I did hinder you or your father.” Erica sighed. “You and father are so dreadfully public-spirited! And yet, oh, mother! What does the whole world matter to me if I think you are uncomfortable, and wretched, and alone?”