This movement, however, was not at once permitted; for gently removing the little intruder, he lighted the gas in order to see what kind of feline specimen had thus come voluntarily to seek his acquaintance.  The little animal’s appearance was greatly in its favour; there were many cats in the neighbourhood, some of them frightened-looking and half-starved creatures, but this was a beautiful little grey and white kitten, which had evidently been some one’s favourite, for it was very tame, and had a blue ribbon tied round its neck.  But what was he to do with it?  Mrs. Walters, he knew, was a sworn enemy to cats and dogs, and, had opportunity been allowed, would have waged a war of extermination against both races.  He dared not keep it, and yet how could he resolve to drive it out into the street, where it would be sure to be killed?  “The poor thing has strayed from home,” said he to himself; “I wish I knew what I ought to do; stay—­if I keep and feed it with the milk I get every day for Mrs. Walters, that will be no better than stealing; and if I tell her it is here, she will drown it.  I wonder if Mrs. Burton would like to have it; but, indeed, I would like to keep it myself, I am often so lonesome.  But I will get Thomas to try and find out who it belongs to, and tell them—­”

He could not finish the sentence, for he was still hesitating as to what was the line of duty.  The little creature, however, pleaded its own cause.  As he took it up and petted it, it nestled up close to his cheek, and mewed gently, as if uttering a petition for mercy.  William could not resist the appeal.  Right or wrong he must keep it; so he carried it up to his garret, and covered it up in his bed, after which he returned to the shop to resume his watch, and think how his kitten was to be cared for—­and, far more important, how he was to coax Mrs. Walters into a cessation of hostilities against the feline tribe, at least so far as to tolerate the little wanderer.

His uncle and aunt arrived in due time,—­the lady in high good humour, which our hero thought it a pity to disturb by mentioning the presence of an unwelcome guest.  He would tell her in the morning; but when the morning came, she was in such an angry mood that, as he was well aware, no benevolence was to be expected from her then.  However, the kitten must be fed, and to do this he was prepared.  He found an old bowl, which had been put in the garret with some cracked crockery.  This he took along when sent on his daily errand for milk for the family, and, having a penny or two in his pocket, he told Mrs. Burton about his kitten, and asked if she would not sell him some every day.  Pleased with the conscientiousness which prompted the boy to buy food for his favourite rather than take a crumb from his employers without their permission, she told him he might keep his pennies, for she would give him a little milk every day for his cat.  “But, Billy dear,” she added, “you had better tell Mrs. Walters all about it.  Do everything open and above-board.  Don’t be ashamed or afraid of anything but sin.  She must find it out at last, and will be more angry with you for hiding the matter.  Always come straight out with the truth; you will find it the right way in the end.”