‘And the next ones,’ Toby broke in excitedly, ‘we’re going to call with the names on the engines when we go up to London to see the dentist.’
‘Or the names of the Atlantic steamers wouldn’t be bad,’ said Paul.
‘Not bad,’ Jonah said, with lukewarm approval; ‘only the engines would be much better.’
‘There may not be any next ones,’ opined Toby, emerging from beneath a sofa after a frantic, but vain, attempt to catch something alive.
Jonah snorted with contempt. ‘Of course there will. They come in bunches all the time, just like grapes and chestnuts and things. Madmizelle told me so. There’s no end to them. Don’t they, Uncle Paul?’
‘I believe so,’ said the authority appealed to, extracting his finger with difficulty from the teeth and claws of several kittens.
There came a lull in the proceedings, the majority of the animals having escaped, and successfully concealed themselves among what Toby called ‘the furchinur.’ Paul was still following a prior train of reflection.
‘Yes, cats are really rather wonderful creatures,’ he mused aloud in spite of himself, turning instinctively in the direction of Nixie. ‘They possess a mysterious and superior kind of intelligence.’
For a moment it was exactly as if he had tapped his armour and said, ‘Look! It’s all sham!’
The child peered sharply up in his face. There was a sudden light in her eyes, and her lips were parted. He had not exactly expected her to answer, but somehow or other he was not surprised when she did. And the answer she made was just the kind of thing he knew she would say. He was annoyed with himself for having said so much.