Black, White and Gray by Amy Walton (best books to read for young adults txt) 📖

long gallery and have a nice game."

Philippa frowned and pushed out her lower lip:

"I want to go out," she murmured.

"But your cough, my dearest," said her mother in a pleading tone.--"What do you say, Katharine? Would it not be more prudent for her to keep indoors?"

"I think it would be best for her to do as you wish," said Aunt Katharine, with a half smile at Philippa's pouting lips.

"I _must_ go out with Dennis and Maisie," said the little girl in a whining voice.

"Dennis and Maisie will be quite happy indoors," said Mrs Trevor entreatingly; "you can show them your new violin, you know, and play them a tune."

"I don't want to," said Philippa, with a rising sob.

Mrs Trevor looked alarmed.

"My darling, don't excite yourself," she said; "we will see--we will ask Miss Mervyn. Perhaps if you are very warmly wrapped up."

Philippa's brow cleared at once.

"Then we may go?" she said.

"Ask Miss Mervyn to come and speak to me a moment," said her mother. "Such a difficult, delicate temperament to deal with," she continued, as the door closed on her daughter. "Not like a commonplace nature," with a glance at Dennis and Maisie; "so excitable, that it makes her ill to be thwarted in any way. Indeed the doctor forbids it."

"How bad for her!" said Aunt Katharine bluntly. "Children are never happy until they learn to obey."

"That sort of system may answer with some children," said Mrs Trevor; "but my poor delicate Philippa requires infinite tact."

"What do you think, Miss Mervyn," as a thin, careworn-looking lady entered, "of Philippa going out to-day? She wants to take her cousins into the garden for a little while."

Miss Mervyn looked anxiously from mother to daughter.

"She _has_ been coughing this morning, and the wind _is_ cold," she began, when she was interrupted by an angry burst of tears from Philippa.

"I _must_ go out," she cried between her sobs. "You're a cross thing to say it's cold. I _will_ go out."

"There, there, my darling," said Mrs Trevor; "do control yourself. You shall go.--Pray, Miss Mervyn, take care that she is warmly dressed, and has goloshes and a thick veil. You will, of course, go with the children, and keep to the sheltered places, and on no account allow Philippa to run on the grass or to get overheated."

Philippa's tears and sobs ceased at once, and soon muffled up to the eyes, she was ready to go out with her cousins, followed by the patient Miss Mervyn, and Mrs Trevor was left at liberty to bestow some attention on her guest. As soon as they were out of sight of the windows, Philippa's first action was to tear off the white knitted shawl which was wrapped round her neck and mouth.

"If you don't keep that on, we must go in again," said Miss Mervyn.

"I won't wear it, and I won't go in," said Philippa. "If you tease about it, I shall scream, and then I shall be ill; and then it will be your fault."

Poor Miss Mervyn shook her head, but after a few mild persuasions gave in, and Philip had her way as usual, not only in this, but in everything that she wished to do throughout the walk. Dennis and Maisie were used to seeing this whenever they came to Haughton, but it never ceased to surprise them, because it was so very different from their unquestioning obedience to rules at Fieldside. It certainly did not seem to make Philippa happy or pleasant. Although she did what she liked, she never appeared to like what she did, and was always wanting something different, and complaining about everything.

"Let's go back now," she said at last, dragging her feet slowly through a puddle as she spoke; "my feet are wet."

"I should think they were," sighed Miss Mervyn. "Come, let us make haste home, so that you may have your boots and stockings changed."

But the perverse Philippa would not hurry. She now lingered behind the others, and even stood still now and then, causing Miss Mervyn great misery. "She will certainly take cold," she murmured. "Cannot you persuade her, my dears, to come on."

"Let's have a race, Philippa, as far as the house," called out Dennis.

Running fast had been forbidden, so it was perhaps on that account attractive to Philippa, who at once consented to the proposal, and Miss Mervyn, thinking it the less of two evils, made no objection.

"Maisie must have a start because she's the smallest," said Dennis, placing his sister a little in front; "now, one, two, three, off!"

The little flying figures sped away towards the house, and Miss Mervyn following, was pleased to see that Dennis allowed Philippa to win the race; that would perhaps make her more good-tempered.

"Ha, ha!" exclaimed Philippa, pointing a scornful finger at Maisie as she came panting up last, with her round cheeks very red. "What a slow coach! Maisie's too fat to run."

"She's younger than we are," said Dennis, who did not allow any one but himself to tease his sister.

"There's not much difference," said Philippa, as the children walked up to the house; "in three weeks it will be my birthday, and I shall be nine."

"Mine isn't for three more months," said Maisie.

"Any one would think me quite twelve years old," said Philippa, with her chin in the air, "because I'm tall and slight. Maisie has such a baby look.--I'm going to have a party on my birthday."

"Are you?" said Maisie with sudden interest.

She gave Dennis's arm a squeeze, to make him understand she had just got a good idea; but he only stared round at her, and said, "Don't pinch so," and Philippa continued:

"Yes, I shall have a party, and a birthday cake, and magnificent presents."

"Can you guess what they will be?" asked Maisie.

"Mother says she won't tell me what hers is," said Philippa; "but I shall make her."

"How?"

"Oh," said Philippa carelessly, "if I want to know very much, I shall cry, and then I always get what I want."

Philippa was not in a nice mood to-day, and did not improve at luncheon, for her wants and whims seemed to engross every one's attention. If Aunt Katharine tried to turn the conversation to something more interesting, Philippa's whining voice broke in, and Mrs Trevor at once ceased to listen to anything else.

It was a relief to the whole party, when, early in the afternoon, Aunt Katharine and her charges were settled once more in the pony-cart, and on their way home to Fieldside.

"Don't you know why I poked you just after the race?" said Maisie to her brother, as they drove out of the lodge gates.

"Because Philippa said such stupid things, I suppose," said Dennis.

"It wasn't that at all," she replied earnestly; "it was because I'd just thought of a good home for one of the kittens. Wouldn't it be splendid to give it to Philippa for a birthday present? It will be just three weeks old."

"H'm," said Dennis doubtfully. He really thought it a capital idea, but he never liked to encourage Maisie too much.

She looked round at him, her brown eyes bright with excitement.

"It would be a magnificent home," she continued, "_more_ than a good one. It would have nice things to eat, and soft things to lie on, and a collar round its neck, and all those beautiful rooms to run about in!"

"I suppose they'd be kind to it," said Dennis. "I don't think _I_ should like to live at Haughton Park."

"Of course not, without Aunt Katharine agreed," said Maisie; "but supposing Haughton Park was hers, wouldn't you like it better than Fieldside?"

"No," said Dennis promptly; "not half so well. At Fieldside you've only to run down the avenue, and there you are in the middle of the village, and only a short way off the Manor Farm. And at Haughton you have to go through the Park, where no one lives, and through three gates, and then you're only in the Upwell road. It's much duller."

"There are the deer," said Maisie.

"But you can't talk to the deer," replied Dennis; "and though they're tame, they're rather stupid, I think."

"Well," said Maisie, "_I_ like some things at Haughton very much, and I daresay the kitten will. A cat's quite different from a boy, isn't it?"

"Which shall we give?" asked Dennis, warming a little to the idea.

"The white, _of course_," said Maisie at once.

She spoke so decidedly, that Dennis felt she must have some good reason, though he could not see why the white should be preferred to the grey.

Maisie could not explain herself, however. She only repeated that _of course_ the white kitten was the right one to go to Haughton, and though she generally yielded to Dennis, she remained firm in this, and by the time they reached home the matter was quite settled. The white kitten was thus provided with a good home; and though, on thinking it over, Maisie doubted whether Philippa would consider it a "magnificent present," she had no misgivings as to its future happiness.


CHAPTER THREE.

OLD SALLY'S ELIZA.

The time soon came when Madam was allowed to bring her kittens into the play-room, where they lived in a basket near the French window, through which she could go in and out at her pleasure.

Dennis and Maisie were now able to make their close acquaintance, and to observe that they were not at all alike either in appearance or character. The black one continued to be the finest of the three. There could be no question that his coat was sleeker, his tail more bushy, his whole shape more substantial, and even at this early age he showed signs of a bold and daring disposition.

When his mother had disposed herself for a comfortable nap, with her eyes shut and her paws tucked in, he would suddenly dart from some ambush, his eyes gleaming with mischief and leap upon her back. Soundly cuffed for this, he would meekly retreat until Madam had dropped off again, when he would come dancing up sideways, on the tips of his toes, with his back hunched, and every hair bristling, and tweak her by the tail. After these pranks had been repeated many times, the old cat would rise and wrestle with him, rolling over and over on the ground, kicking and biting, until he was subdued for a little while. But he was never good for long, and gave her more trouble than the other two put together.

The white kitten was of a very different nature. It was decidedly prim in its ways, and very particular about its appearance, so that it learned sooner than the others to wash its face, and attend to its toilet. While the black kitten struggled violently when he was washed, and had to be held firmly down all the while, the white one seemed to enjoy licking its fur with its own rough little tongue, and to be quite vexed if it found a dirty spot on its coat. "It's a good thing it's