“Very well; the cat shall go to-morrow.”

Drawing her little boy quickly after her, Janet left the drawing-room, crossed the corridor, walked into the empty schoolroom, and then, to Timmy’s unutterable surprise, burst into bitter tears.

Now Timmy had never seen his mother cry—­and she herself was very much taken aback.  She would have given a great deal to have been left alone just then to have her cry out, but Timmy’s scared little face touched her.

“I can’t think why you did it,” she sobbed.  “I always thought you were such an intelligent boy.  Oh, Timmy, surely you understood how angry it would make Jack and Rosamund if you brought Josephine back now, to-day?”

“I never thought of them,” he said woefully.  “We were so happy, Mum—­Godfrey, Betty and I. Oh, why are people so horrid?”

“Why are people so selfish?” she asked sadly.  “I’m surprised at Betty; I should have thought that she, at least, would have understood that the cat must stay away a little longer.”

“It wasn’t Betty’s fault,” said Timmy hastily.  He waited a moment, then added cunningly, “It was really Mr. Trotman’s fault; he said Josephine ought to come home.”

But his mother went on a little wildly:  “It isn’t an easy job, taking over another woman’s children—­and doing the very best you can for them!  To-day, Timmy, you’ve made me feel as if I was sorry that I ever did it.”

“Sorry that you married Daddy?” asked Timmy in an awe-struck voice.

Janet Tosswill nodded.

“Sorry that I was ever born?” cried Timmy.  He flung his skinny arms round her bent neck.

She looked up and smiled wanly.  “No, Timmy, I shall never be able to say that, however naughty you may be.”

But Timmy was not to be let off yet.

“What happened to-day has hurt me very, very much,” she went on.  “It will be a long time before I shall feel on the old, happy terms with Jack again.  Without knowing it, Timmy, you’ve pierced your mother’s heart.”

But even as she uttered these, to Timmy, dreadful words, Janet Tosswill got up, and dried her eyes.  “Now then, we must go and see about Josephine being shut up in some place of safety, where she and her kittens will not offend the eyes of Jack and Rosamund.  How about the old stable?”

She was her own calm, satirical, determined self again.  But Timmy felt, perhaps for the first time in his life, deeply conscious of sin.  His mother’s phrase made him feel very uneasy.  Had he really pierced her heart—­could a mother’s heart be permanently injured by a wicked child?

It was a very mournful, dejected, anxious boy who walked into the kitchen behind Janet Tosswill.

Timmy had a very vivid imagination, and during the drive back he had amused himself by visualising the scene when he would place Josephine and her kittens in their own delightful, roomy basket in the scullery.  It would be such fun, too, introducing Flick to the two kittens!  At Betty’s suggestion, Flick had been shut out from the scullery after Josephine’s kittens were born, and that though the dog and the cat got on extremely well together.  In fact, Flick was the only creature in the world with whom Josephine, since she had reached an approximately mature age, ever condescended to play.