“No,” said Dennis promptly; “not half so well. At Fieldside you’ve only to run down the avenue, and there you are in the middle of the village, and only a short way off the Manor Farm. And at Haughton you have to go through the Park, where no one lives, and through three gates, and then you’re only in the Upwell road. It’s much duller.”
“There are the deer,” said Maisie.
“But you can’t talk to the deer,” replied Dennis; “and though they’re tame, they’re rather stupid, I think.”
“Well,” said Maisie, “I like some things at Haughton very much, and I daresay the kitten will. A cat’s quite different from a boy, isn’t it?”
“Which shall we give?” asked Dennis, warming a little to the idea.
“The white, of course,” said Maisie at once.
She spoke so decidedly, that Dennis felt she must have some good reason, though he could not see why the white should be preferred to the grey.
Maisie could not explain herself, however. She only repeated that of course the white kitten was the right one to go to Haughton, and though she generally yielded to Dennis, she remained firm in this, and by the time they reached home the matter was quite settled. The white kitten was thus provided with a good home; and though, on thinking it over, Maisie doubted whether Philippa would consider it a “magnificent present,” she had no misgivings as to its future happiness.