"Very well, thank you," answered Dorothy demurely; "but oh dear me!
kittens 'are such a constant source of worry and anxiety!' Auntie
Lisbeth sometimes says that about Reginald and me. I wonder what
she would say if we were kittens!"
"Bye the bye, where is your Auntie Lisbeth?" I asked in a strictly
conversational tone.
"Well, she's lying in the old boat."
"In the old boat!" I repeated.
"Yes," nodded Dorothy; "when it's nice and warm and sleepy, like
to-day, she takes a book, and a pillow, and a sunshade, and she goes
and lies in the old boat under the Water-stairs. There, just look
at this naughty Louise!" she broke off, as the kitten scrambled up
to her shoulder and stood there, balancing itself very dextrously
with curious angular movements of its tail; "that's because she
thinks I've forgotten her milk, you know; she's dreadfully impatient,
but I suppose I must humour her this once. Good-afternoon!" And,
having given me her hand in her demure, old-fashioned way, Dorothy
hurried off, the kitten still perched upon her shoulder, its tail
jerking spasmodically with her every step.
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