parents and Dan had all started out to their
work, and left her alone with the kitten as usual, she thought it all
seriously over, and made one firm resolve--she would not cry. If to
give it up cheerful was impossible, she would at least prevent her grief
from being seen. It might be hard, but it must be done, because, as Dan
had said, Dennis and Maisie had been so good to them. "I'll shut my
teeth tight," determined Becky, "and they shan't ever know I want to
cry. Then, after they're gone, I can cry as much as I like."

With a sigh she proceeded to get the kitten ready for the visit, by
brushing its coat carefully and smoothing it down with a duster. It had
not very thick fur, but it was glossy and well-kept, and it was so used
to kind treatment that it bore itself with confidence, like a cat with a
good home. If there were nothing striking or handsome in its
appearance, there was at least nothing slinking or miserable about it,
and to Becky, who looked at it with the eyes of affection, it had every
attraction a cat could possess.

"And now you're as ready as you can be," she said wistfully; "a collar
or a bit o' ribbon would finish yer off, but I ain't got ne'er a one.
Miss Maisie she'll have lots o' ribbons, and nicer things a deal for you
to eat than I can give you, but she can't love you better. Maybe you'd
be happier, but oh Kitty, Kitty, I hope you ain't her cat. I want to
keep you, I _do_."

There was a knock at the door. "Come in," said Becky in a trembling
voice, and both she and the kitten turned their eyes towards it in a
frightened manner as it opened.

Philippa appeared first, stepping daintily forward with a swing of her
elegant skirts, and for a moment Becky thought she was alone. But no,
there was another little girl behind her, with rosy cheeks and very
bright brown eyes. She came in shyly, and yet she looked very eager,
and her gaze was fastened immediately on the kitten in Becky's arms.

"It's Miss Maisie," thought Becky, her grasp unconsciously tightening on
its back.

"This," said Philippa, waving her hand grandly, "is my cousin, Miss
Maisie Chester, and--" turning to Maisie--"this is Becky, and that's the
kitten."

"How do you do?" said Maisie holding out her hand; "I hope you're
better."

It was such a very kind little round face that approached that Becky
could not feel afraid. She put out her hand and whispered, "Yes, thank
you."

"Philippa says," continued Maisie, stil