Philippa was not in a nice mood to-day, and did not improve at luncheon, for her wants and whims seemed to engross every one’s attention. If Aunt Katharine tried to turn the conversation to something more interesting, Philippa’s whining voice broke in, and Mrs Trevor at once ceased to listen to anything else.
It was a relief to the whole party, when, early in the afternoon, Aunt Katharine and her charges were settled once more in the pony-cart, and on their way home to Fieldside.
“Don’t you know why I poked you just after the race?” said Maisie to her brother, as they drove out of the lodge gates.
“Because Philippa said such stupid things, I suppose,” said Dennis.
“It wasn’t that at all,” she replied earnestly; “it was because I’d just thought of a good home for one of the kittens. Wouldn’t it be splendid to give it to Philippa for a birthday present? It will be just three weeks old.”
“H’m,” said Dennis doubtfully. He really thought it a capital idea, but he never liked to encourage Maisie too much.
She looked round at him, her brown eyes bright with excitement.
“It would be a magnificent home,” she continued, “more than a good one. It would have nice things to eat, and soft things to lie on, and a collar round its neck, and all those beautiful rooms to run about in!”
“I suppose they’d be kind to it,” said Dennis. “I don’t think I should like to live at Haughton Park.”
“Of course not, without Aunt Katharine agreed,” said Maisie; “but supposing Haughton Park was hers, wouldn’t you like it better than Fieldside?”