“Why, sure you know our Eliza, Master Dennis,” said old Sally. “Her as married the tinsmith, and went to live in Upwell town. Eliza’s my youngest darter but two. Don’t you mind her wedding?”
“Lor, mother!” said Anne, “Master Dennis and Miss Maisie warn’t living at Fieldside then. It’s a good twelve years ago.—Mother forgets things like that,” she added aside to the children, “though she’s a wonderful memory for ancient things.”
“Would it be a good home, do you think?” said Maisie to Dennis in a low tone.
“Is your daughter Eliza a kind woman?” shouted Dennis down the trumpet.
Old Sally dropped her trumpet and raised both her withered hands on high.
“Kind! Master Dennis. Eliza’s downright silly about dumb animals. She always was from a gal.”
“We don’t want her to be silly,” said Dennis, “but we do want her to be kind, because we’ve promised Aunt Katharine to find a good home.”
Both old Sally and Anne were full of assurances as to Eliza’s kindness and the comforts which would surround the grey kitten in her house. Certainly it would have to catch mice, but that, they declared, was a pleasure to a cat, and could not be called hard work. So after a little consultation it was settled that the kitten should be brought to old Sally’s, and that Eliza should take it back to Upwell the very next time she came over to see her mother. The grey kitten had a home at last. This arrangement made, Dennis got up briskly, with a business-like air.
“I’m going to see Tuvvy now,” he said. “I’ll come back for you presently, Maisie;” and he was almost out of the door before he was stopped by a call from Anne.
“You’ll not find him to-day, Master Dennis,” she said. “He’s not at work.”