Nevertheless Ruth thought about the cat a great deal that afternoon, and the toys seemed even less interesting than usual. When tea was over, and Nurse had taken up her sewing again, she began to make a few inquiries.
"Where does that cat live?" she asked.
"In the kitchen, to be sure," said Nurse; "and the cellar, and coal-hole, and such like. Alonger the rats and mice—and the beadles," she added, as an after-thought.
"The beadles!" repeated Ruth doubtfully. "What beadles?"
"Why, the black beadles, to be sure," replied Nurse cheerfully.
Ruth was silent. It seemed dismal company for the kitchen cat. Then she said:
"Are there many of them?"
"Swarms!" said Nurse, breaking off her thread with a snap. "The kitchen's black with 'em at night."
What a dreadful picture!
"Who feeds the cat?" asked Ruth again.