She could not eat her meal, however, her heart was full with the greatness of the sacrifice before her.  Do not laugh at the word great sacrifice.  It was very great to Edith; she loved with all her heart; and to part with what we love, be it a dog, a cat, a bird, or any inanimate possession, is a great pang.  After breakfast she went into the little room where Muff usually eat, and taking hold of the favourite, hugged and kissed her lovingly, then carrying her down stairs to the kitchen, asked cook for a large basket, and with a little help from Margaret, tied her down and safely confined her; then giving the precious load to her father’s errand boy, trotted into the town, and stopped not till she reached Miss Webster’s door.  Her early visit rather astonished aunt Agnes, who was at that moment busily engaged in dressing Miss Webster’s foot, and at the announcement of Betsey—­“Please Ma’am little Miss Parker is called and has brought you a cat,” she jumped so that she spilled Miss Webster’s lotion.

“A cat! a cat!” echoed the ladies.  “I will have no cats here Miss Schomberg, if you please,” said the irritable Mistress.  “I always did hate cats, there is no end to the mischief they do.  I never did keep one, and never mean to do.”

Miss Schomberg went down stairs into Miss Webster’s little parlour, and there saw Edith untying her beloved Muff.  “Well aday! my child, what brings you here? all alone too.  Surely Emilie isn’t ill, oh dear me something must be amiss.”

“Oh no, Miss Schomberg, no, only I heard you say you would like a cat, and Fred has got some new birds and I mayn’t keep Muff, and so will you take her and be kind to her?”

“My dear child,” said aunt Agnes in a bewilderment, “I would take her gladly but Miss Webster has a bird you know, and is so awfully neat and particular, oh, it won’t do; you must not bring her here, and I must go back and finish Miss Webster’s foot.  She is very poorly to-day.  Oh how glad I shall be when my Emilie comes back!  Good bye, take the cat, dear, away, pray do;” and, so saying, aunt Agnes bustled off, leaving poor Edith more troubled and perplexed with Muff than ever.

CHAPTER EIGHTH.

GOOD FOR EVIL.

Old Joe Murray was seated on the beach, nearer the town than his house stood, watching the groups of busy children, digging and playing in the sand, now helping them in their play, and now giving his hint to the nurses around him, when Edith tapped him on the shoulder.  There was something so unusually serious, not cross, in Edith’s countenance, that Joe looked at her inquiringly.  “There, set down the basket, Nockells, and run back quick, tell papa I kept you; I am afraid you will get into disgrace.”

“Mayn’t I drown Puss?” said Nockells.

“No! you cruel boy, no!” said Edith, vehemently. “You shall not have the pleasure, no one shall do it who would take a pleasure in it.”