CHAPTER XI
KITTY DANCES WITH STRANGE PARTNERS.
“I am beautiful! Oh, so, so beautiful!” said a hoarse voice.
Kitty, looking round, saw—well, she could not say what sort of a creature she saw—as she had never seen one like it before. It bore a sort of resemblance to a frog, but that was perhaps because it wore a green coat and a bulging shirt-front; then it was a very large frog, as big as herself. It had a human face—a broad, bland, beaming face—with a smile that seemed to curl all round it. In her life Kitty had never seen such a steady, satisfied smile.
The green-coated creature wriggled and twisted itself till Kitty thought it would wriggle and twist itself out of existence. On beholding Kitty it made her a low bow, and said with a flourish of its hand:
“Admire me and I shall admire you.”
“Oh, but I don’t want to be admired,” said Kitty, trying to smother a laugh. “Indeed, indeed, I don’t want to be admired.”
“Not—want—to—be—ad—mired!” exclaimed the frog-like one, throwing itself back, sticking out its left leg, and uplifting its two arms in an elegant attitude of dismay. Yet for all its dismay it continued to smile.
“I think it would be dull,” said Kitty, speaking slowly to keep her voice steady. “It would feel like having one’s best frock always on, and being afraid of jumping about.”