Black, White and Gray | Page 6

the village, including two or three large farms,
was scattered about here and there, with wide spaces between.
"Why are you going to Mrs Broadbent's, Aunt Katharine?" asked
Dennis, as they turned sharply to the right.
"Because I want to ask her to let me have a setting of Minorcas,"
replied his aunt, "and no one else keeps them."
"And we might ask her, you know," said Maisie, "whether she'd like
one of the kittens. I should think that would be a good home, shouldn't
you?"
"P'raps she doesn't like cats," said Dennis carelessly. "We've got three
weeks, so it really doesn't matter much yet."
The Broadbents' square white house now came in sight. It had a trim
garden, a tennis ground, and a summer-house, and was completely
screened from the farm-buildings by a gloomy row of fir-trees. The
children did not as a rule care to pay visits to Mrs Broadbent, for there
were no animals or interesting things about; but to-day Maisie asked
leave to go in, for she had the kittens on her mind, and felt she must not
lose a chance.

Mrs Broadbent was a thin little widow, who wore smart caps, and had a
general air of fashion about her person. She was sharp and clever, well
up to the business of managing her large farm, and familiar with every
detail of it. Unfortunately she considered this a thing to be ashamed of,
and, much to Miss Chester's annoyance, always pretended ignorance
which did not exist. What she was proud of, and thrust foremost in her
conversation, were the accomplishments of two highly-educated
daughters, who painted on china, and played the violin, and on this
subject she received no encouragement from Aunt Katharine.
"I shouldn't have thought of disturbing you so early, Mrs Broadbent,"
she said briskly, when they were seated in the smart little
drawing-room, "but I've come on business. I want to know if you've a
setting of Minorca fowls to dispose of. I've a fancy to rear some."
Mrs Broadbent simpered a little and put her head on one side.
"I've no doubt we can oblige you, Miss Chester," she said. "I'll speak to
my poultry-man about it, and let you know."
"How many Minorcas have you?" asked Miss Chester.
"Oh, I really couldn't tell you, Miss Chester," replied Mrs Broadbent
with a little laugh. "I never thought of inquiring."
"Not know how many of each sort of fowls you have!" exclaimed Aunt
Katharine. "Why, if I had a farm, I'd know every one of them by sight,
and how many eggs they each laid. I suppose, though," she added, "you
leave that to your daughters. They must be a great help to you."
Mrs Broadbent bridled:
"Emmeline and Lilian are far too much engaged," she said, "with their
studies and their artistic work. Emmeline's quite devoted herself to art.
I've given her a large room at the top of the house for a studio."
"Indeed," said Miss Chester coldly. "And what does she do in it?"

"Just now she's painting some lovely plaques," said Mrs Broadbent,
"and Lilian's quite taken to the new poker-work."
"What is that?" asked her visitor.
"You haven't seen it, Miss Chester? Well, it is quite new, and as I was
saying the other day, in these remote parts we don't see anything, do we?
But Lilian's been staying in London, and she learned it there. She did
that frame."
It seemed that poker-work was intended to have the effect of carving,
which was produced by burning patterns on wood with a red-hot
instrument.
"Well, if you ask my candid opinion," said Aunt Katharine, rising to
look at the frame, "I should like it much better plain; but it's a harmless
amusement, if wasting time is ever harmless.--Come Maisie, Dennis
will be quite tired of waiting.--You'll let me know about the eggs, Mrs
Broadbent, and their price. I shall be much obliged if you can spare me
a setting."
In another moment Aunt Katharine would have swept out of the room,
with her usual activity, but after waiting so long for a pause in the
conversation, Maisie could not give up her purpose.
"Do you want a cat, please?" she said, standing in front of Mrs
Broadbent--"that is, a nice little kitten. One of our cat Madam's."
But Mrs Broadbent was quite certain that she did not want a cat, and
said so with some sharpness, for she was never pleased at Miss
Chester's outspoken opinions, though she was used to them. She had
too many cats about the place now. She supposed as long as there were
mice there must be cats, but to her mind there was not much to choose
between them.
"I don't really suppose it would have been a good home," said Maisie,
when