l with her eyes fixed on the
kitten, "that you've found a stray kitten. And we lost a kitten--a grey
one--in Upwell, and Aunt Katharine said I might come and see if this is
it."

Face to face with the kitten at last, Maisie began to lose confidence in
her memory. After all, it was a long time since she had seen it, and
there were a great many grey cats in the world, and Dennis had always
declared that it would be impossible to know it again. Her serious gaze
rested on the kitten, Becky's on her face, and Philippa waited
impatiently in the background for the decision.

"Well," she said at last; "is it it, or isn't it?"

"The thing is," began Maisie, "has it one white paw?"

Alas for Becky! She knew it had, only too well. Lifting it a little
away from her, there was the fatal white paw plainly visible to Maisie's
searching glance.

"And then," she continued, having observed this with a grave nod, "has
it very nice little coaxing affectionate ways?"

Becky nodded with a full heart. She could not trust herself to speak.

"Does it purr much?" pursued Maisie. "_More_ than other cats?"

Again Becky nodded. She had clenched her teeth long ago, but she began
to be afraid that nothing would prevent her crying.

"May I have it in my arms?" asked Maisie.

She took it gently on to her knee, but the kitten had quite forgotten
its babyhood, and thinking her an utter stranger, soon wriggled back to
its mistress.

"It doesn't remember me," said Maisie rather sadly, "and yet I nursed it
so very often."

"It _is_ yours, then?" said Philippa.

"Yes," said Maisie. "I really and truly do believe it is, and I'm very
glad."

She glanced at Becky as she spoke, and to her surprise saw that her eyes
were full of tears.

"What's the matter?" she asked; "does your back hurt you?"

Becky shook her head. "'Tain't that," she managed to whisper. "I meant
not to cry, but I don't seem able to keep it back."

She stopped and struggled with her tears, tore away the kitten, which
clung to her with its little claws, and almost threw it into Maisie's
lap.

"You're welcome to it," she sobbed out, "and you'll treat it kind."

At this rough usage the kitten gave a tiny mew of complaint, and Maisie
herself was quite as much disturbed. She looked round at Philippa for
help, stroked the kitten nervously, and stammered: "But it isn't mine
any longer--I gave it away; didn't you know?"

"I told her all about it," said Philippa. "