But Belinda had lost interest. The rusty red robin was busy with a
worm, and she saw her chance.

As she sneaked across the grass, Anne sat up, "I'm ashamed of you,
Belinda," she said. "Becky, go bring her back!"

The tame crow fluttered from the tree with a squawk and straddled
awkwardly to the stump, scaring the robin into flight, and beating an
inky wing against Belinda's whiteness.

Belinda hit back viciously, but Becky flew over her head, and by
several well-delivered nips sent the white cat mewing to the shelter of
her mistress' arms.

"I suppose you can't help it, Belinda," said Anne, as she cuddled her,
"but it's horrid of you to catch birds, horrid, Belinda."

Belinda curled down into Anne's blue gingham lap, and Becky Sharp
climbed once more to the limb of the plum-tree, from which she
presently sounded a discordant note.

Anne raised her head. "There is some one coming," she said, and rolled
Belinda out of her lap and stood up. "Who is it, Becky?"

But Becky, having given the alarm, blinked solemnly down at her
mistress, and said nothing.

"It's Judge Jameson's horse," Anne informed her pets, "and there's a
girl with him, with a white hat on, and they'll stay to lunch, and