"You know very well that she's away, because you heard Philip say so last night! There's Jemima, though."
"Is your sister at home?" he asked politely.
"She's making pickle this afternoon, and she's always rather cross when she makes pickle. But I'm sure she'll see you, if you wish."
"I don't," said Channing.
"I thought not," murmured Jacqueline, and made a place for him to sit down beside her. "Look out—you'll squash the baby!"
Channing jumped. "A baby? Beg pardon, infant—" he poked a finger toward young Kitty, who promptly conveyed it to her mouth. "It's biting me," he said plaintively. "Call it off—What are you doing with a baby?"
"I'm winning it away from its mother so that she'll let me keep it for good," said Jacqueline in confidence.
"Humph! Rather a high-handed proceeding, that."
"Oh, no—I don't think Mag really wants a baby much, not like I do. She's fond of it in a way, just as cats are fond of their kittens; but they soon outgrow it, you know. Why, once we had a cat who ate her kittens!"
"Shocking of her," said Channing.