I cannot tell how many times Muff was called "a nasty cat,"
"a tiresome cat," "a vicious cat," and little Edith's heart was full,
for she did not believe any evil of her favourite; and to hear her so
maligned, seemed like a personal insult; but she bore it patiently. She
asked Emilie at bed time what she should do about Muff; she had so long
been accustomed to her seat by the sunny window in Edith's room, that to
try and tempt her from it she knew would be vain.
Emilie agreed with her, but hoped Muff would practise self-denial.
Before Edith lay down to rest that night, she again thought over all
that she had done through the day; again knelt down and asked for help
to overcome that which was sinful within her, and then lay down to
sleep. Edith was but a child, and she could not forget Muff; she
thought, and very truly, that there was a general wish to displace her
Muff. Not one in the house would be sorry to see Muff sent away she
know, and Margaret at supper time seemed so pleased to report of Muff's
designs. This thought made her love Muff all the more, but then there
were Fred's birds.
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