“Well!” exclaimed Philippa, when she had got close to them without being seen, “you are making a mess!”
“Why, it’s Philippa!” exclaimed Maisie, throwing down her brush, and scrambling up from the ground; “but we mustn’t go near you,” she added, stopping short, “or you’ll get all over paint.”
“Isn’t it jolly?” said Dennis. “Come round here and look at the bit I’m doing.”
“No, thank you,” said Philippa primly; “I haven’t come to stay. Miss Mervyn’s waiting in the pony-carriage. I’ve only come to say,” with a pause, “that I’ve found your grey kitten.”
“So have we,” said Dennis coolly; “at least we think we know where it is.”
Philippa’s face fell. “Where?” she asked.
“We don’t really know,” said Maisie hastily, “only Dr Price saw a grey kitten at Tuvvy’s house in Upwell, and Aunt Katharine says I may go to-morrow and see if it’s ours.”
“And I don’t believe you’ll know whether it is or not,” said Dennis.
Philippa turned away sulkily. She was thoroughly disappointed to have her news received in this way.
“Oh well, then,” she said, “you don’t want to hear what I know about it, and I am sorry I came round all this way to tell you. Good-bye.”