Kitty's enemy

by Eleanora H. Stooke

"Oh, Tim's seeing to Fluffy," Mrs. Glanville replied. "He cleans out the hutch every day, I believe. He offered to take charge of your pet, and we were glad he could do so; for, you know, Bob has little spare time, what with his lessons and practising for the sports."

"It's very kind of Tim," admitted Kitty, rather grudgingly.

"Tim is kind," said Mrs. Glanville, in a tone of decision; "and he has been greatly concerned about you, my dear; he continually calls to know how you are. I hear his voice at the door now. Wouldn't you like to see him?"

"Yes, I think I should," Kitty answered. "It was very good of him to fetch Dr. Richards so quickly the other morning—I thought so at the time. Please, mother, ask him to come in."

So Tim came in, his plain, freckled face very bright, and told Kitty how very glad he was she was better, and reported that Fluffy was doing well under his care. Kitty thanked him for looking after her pet; and then, as she expressed a desire to see Fluffy, Tim fetched the rabbit, and she kissed its pink nose and fondled it, until Snip, watching her from the corners of his eyes, began to show symptoms of jealousy, and it was deemed advisable to restore Fluffy to the hutch.

Tim's visit did much to cheer Kitty, and she asked him to come again, which he accordingly did very willingly. She began to think that she had been mistaken in believing it had been he who had stolen the covered basket; but she could not entirely rid her mind of the suspicion that he had had something to do with the mysterious death of the first rabbit, though she would gladly have done so.

And Tim, when he met the gaze of Kitty's honest blue eyes, was often conscience-stricken, remembering how she had asked him point blank if he had overturned the box which had held her rabbit, and he had answered, "No, certainly not." What would be her opinion of him if she ever found out his untruthfulness? He was beginning to think less of the impetuous act which he had done in his temper than of the denial he had uttered; and now he knew the Glanvilles, he saw that they would more easily understand and overlook the revengeful deed than the deliberate falsehood, for both Kitty and Bob were particularly honourable children. How difficult it would be to make them believe that he did not tell stories as a rule, but that he had succumbed to temptation because he had been lonely and desired their friendship, which he had feared he would never gain if he confessed the truth.

It was nearly a week before Kitty was fit to stand on her injured foot again, and then she was only able to limp about—"a lame duck," her brother called her. Nevertheless, she declared her intention of attending the grammar school sports. And, much to her joy, Dr. Richards gave it as his opinion that it would do her no harm to go, if she was driven to the ground where the sports were to be held, and sat down as much as she could whilst she was there. Accordingly, when the long-looked-forward-to afternoon arrived, she drove off in a cab with her mother and father and Tim Shuttleworth in the best of possible spirits.

The ground belonging to the grammar school was a short distance out of the town. And as the cab drew up at the entrance gate, Bob, wearing his colours—pale blue and silver, which his sister had chosen—left the group of boys with whom he had been chatting, and ran up to it.

"You'd better come and sit on one of the seats near the hedge, Kitty," he said, as he assisted the little girl to alight. "They're going to run off the heats first of all, and you'll have a good sight from there. See, there's an empty seat with room for all of you; and there's a board for you to put your feet upon, so you can't possibly catch cold."