I was polishing the glazed earthenware with the family skill, when I
became conscious that the house was resounding to the cry of "Toots!"
"Toots, Toots!" squeaked the housemaid, in the servants' hall.
"Toots, Toots!" growled the elderly butler, in the pantry.
"Toots, Toots, cock-a-Toots!" yelled that intolerable creature, the
Macaw.
"Toots, Toots!" snapped the cook.
"Miow," said I; for I had finished the cream, and could speak now,
though I confess I did not feel equal to any great exertion.
The cook opened the door. She found me--she did not find the cream,
which she had left in the dish ready for whipping.
Perhaps it was because she had no cream to whip, that she tried to whip
me. Certainly, during the next half-hour, I had reason to be much
confused as to the meaning of the word "Toots." In the soft voice of my
mistress it had always seemed to me to mean cream; now it seemed to mean
kicks, blows, flapping dish-cloths, wash-leathers and dusters, pokers,
carpet brooms, and every instrument of torture with which a poor cat
could be chased from garret to cellar. I am pretty nimble, and though I
never felt less disposed for violent exercise, I flatter myself I led
them a good dance before, by a sudden impulse of affectionate
trustfulness, I sprang straight into my mistress's arms for shelter.
Pages:
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101