eside her mother, and
gave a little affected wave of the hand to her cousins as she drove
away.

"What's the matter with Philippa?" asked Dennis. "She's got something
new on, I suppose."

Without waiting for an answer, he proceeded to tell all he had done that
afternoon. No one had refused to sign, although some of the men had a
good deal to say before they did so, and others looked as though they
did not understand the Round Robin very clearly.

"But I think it will be all right," finished Dennis; "and if I get them
all, Mr Solace can't refuse to let Tuvvy stop, can he?"

Maisie agreed rather absently, for she was still thinking over her talk
with Philippa. The white kitten's home did not seem to have turned out
very well so far, and she had expected it to be the best. Perhaps the
grey kitten's humble abode would be happier, after all, than Haughton
Park.

"Madam," she said, turning to the old cat, who had chosen a sunny spot
on the window ledge, and was taking a nap, "I've got some news for you.
Aunt Katharine's going to call at the tinsmith's--that's where old
Sally's Eliza lives, you know--and ask after your grey kitten."

"_She_ doesn't care," said Dennis, laughing contemptuously, but Maisie
knew Madam was pleased, for she tucked her front paws under her and
purred. She would no doubt be anxious to hear about her kitten, and the
next afternoon, when the time came to expect Aunt Katharine back from
Upwell, Maisie stood waiting in the hall with the old cat tucked under
her arm. Madam should hear the news directly it came. It seemed a long
time in coming, and even when at last Aunt Katharine drove up to the
door, she had so many parcels to look after, and so much to say about
them, that Maisie could not ask any questions. She followed her aunt
into the sitting-room, with Madam still clutched tightly to her side.

"What is it, Maisie dear?" said Miss Chester. "Oh, the kitten, to be
sure. I went to see it, but I'm sorry to tell you that they're afraid
it has run away."

At this sad news Madam struggled so violently that Maisie was obliged to
let her slip down to the floor. Run away! That was the last thing
Maisie had thought of.

"Oh Aunt Katharine," she cried, "how did it run away? Why did they let
it?"

But there was not much to be told about this. It was supposed that the
kitten had run through the shop out into the street, and lost its way.
At any rate, it had disappeared, and the tinsmith