“I’m afraid I didn’t,” he said humbly; “you see they always look alike to me.”
“There’s quite as much difference in them as there is in dogs,” said Maisie in an instructive voice; “Madam’s three last kittens were not a bit alike. One was black—we kept that; one was quite white—we gave that to Philippa; and one was stripey grey, and that was the one that went to Upwell and got lost.”
“It would be odd, wouldn’t it?” suggested the doctor, “if it was the one I saw at Tuvvy’s.”
Maisie sat very upright, with a sparkle of excitement in her eyes.
“Could it be?” she exclaimed. “How did the little girl get it?”
Dr Price shook his head with a guilty air. “Didn’t ask,” he said.
His conduct with regard to the kitten had been thoroughly unsatisfactory, but he looked so sorry, that Maisie could not be hard upon him.
“Never mind,” she said graciously; “I daresay, if you don’t like cats—It had one white paw,” she added quickly, with renewed hope, “but I daresay you didn’t even notice that.”
Dr Price was so anxious to please, that it is possible he might have gone the length of remembering the one white paw, but he was saved from this rashness by the entrance of Mrs Budget, bearing a covered dish from which came a very savoury smell.
“There’s Miss Pringle stepping down with cloak and umbrella for Miss Chester,” she said, “so I thought I’d just bring the dinner straight in. It’s done to a turn, and smells like a nosegay,” she added, lifting the cover with a triumphant flourish.