On the fourth day, almost before the family realized what was happening, she was gone; and with her had gone Mrs.
Stetson and Spunk.
The family said they liked it--the quiet, the freedom.

They said they liked to be alone--all but William.

He said nothing.
And yet-- When Bertram went to his studio that morning he did not pick up his brushes until he had sat for long minutes before the sketch of a red-cheeked, curly-headed young girl whose eyes held a peculiarly wistful appeal; and Cyril, at his piano up-stairs, sat with idle fingers until they finally drifted into a simple little melody--the last thing Billy had been learning.
It was Pete who brought in the kitten; and Billy had been gone a whole week then.
"The poor little beast was cryin' at the alleyway door, sir," he explained.

"I--I made so bold as to bring him in." "Of course," said William.

"Did you feed it ?" "Yes, sir; Ling did." There was a pause, then Pete spoke, diffidently.
"I thought, sir, if ye didn't mind, I'd keep it.