At the very last, Betty had lingered for a moment after the others, and she had noticed that the girl's eyes were full of tears.
"Why, Betty, what's the matter?
I don't think we need really worry over Mrs.Crofton." "I'm not thinking of Mrs.Crofton.I can't bear the thought of poor Josephine being shot to-morrow morning." "Oh, my dear, don't _you_ turn sentimental! I never did like that poor cat; to me there's always been something queer and uncanny about her." "You've never liked cats," Betty answered, rather aggressively.

"Timmy and I are devoted to Josephine--so is Nanna." Janet had checked the contemptuous words trembling on her lips.

Abruptly she had changed the subject: "I want to tell you, Betty, how splendidly the dinner went off to-night.

Your cooking was first chop!" Betty at once softened.

But all she said was: "I would give anything for Mrs.Crofton to leave Beechfield, Janet.