Maisie had known from the first that her opinion was merely asked as a matter of form, Dennis would have the colour he wished and no other; so she made no further objection, and it was settled, subject to Aunt Katharine’s approval, that the jackdaws’ house should be painted the brightest red possible to get. This done, Maisie retired into a corner of the play-room with Madam, and related to her attentive ear the discovery of that morning.—She was a better listener than Dennis, for at any rate she was not eager to talk on other matters, but Maisie longed to tell some one who really cared as much as she did herself. Aunt Katharine would be home soon, which was a comfort, and perhaps Philippa too would like to know. She had never seen the grey kitten, but she had heard about it so very often. Maisie made up her mind to write to her. She would have been surprised if she had known that Philippa also had made a discovery, and bad news to tell her of Madam’s lost child. To hear what this discovery was, we must go back to the day when Philippa went home after her visit to Fieldside.
Chapter Eleven.
Philippa makes a Discovery.
When Philippa, looking back from her seat in the carriage by Mrs Trevor’s side, could no longer see Dennis and Maisie making signs of farewell, she leaned back with a pout of discontent. Her visit to Fieldside was over, and she had been so happy, that it seemed flat and dull to be going home with only Miss Mervyn to see when she got there. As they drove quickly through the village, she looked quite longingly at all the familiar places they passed. At the post-office, where her cousins had taken her to fetch the afternoon letters and buy bull’s-eyes; at the cottage, where the old woman lived who had the immense yellow cat; at the blacksmith’s, who was shoeing Dr Price’s grey horse; and at the school-house, where the chubby-faced boys and girls were just pouring out into the road.
Farther on, she could see in the distance the gables and outbuildings of the Manor Farm, and the deep thatched roof of old Sally’s cottage, from which a thin thread of smoke was rising. She was sorry to leave all these friendly things, and there seemed nothing to look forward to at Haughton Park, except perhaps the white kitten. She began to wonder how it was, and whether it had missed her, and remembering Maisie’s advice, she determined that she would try to improve its behaviour, and make it into a really good cat. Her first question, therefore, when she arrived was, “Where’s Blanche?” and she looked impatiently at her mother for the answer, for Mrs Trevor hesitated.
“The kitten, my darling?” she said rather nervously; “the kitten’s in the stable, I think. I told Thomas to take great care of it.”
Philippa, who was on her way up-stairs, turned round and faced her mother defiantly.
“Why is it in the stable?” she asked. “Who sent it there? It must come back directly.”