“I shall,” said that naughty Tompkins; “I think mother ought to know.”
“You needn’t trouble,” remarked Salome haughtily, “it doesn’t interest me in the very least what those vulgar little kittens call me.”
“Still, you had better hear,” persisted Tompkins, and before Minette could stop him he said, “they called you a ridiculous old fluff-pot, there!”
Whatever did Salome say?
Nothing at all, and if you know anything of Persian cats you will guess what she did. She got up and had a good stretch, then she shook out each leg and sauntered grandly out of the room. It was as if she meant that what the kitchen kittens had called her was so unimportant that it was not worth thinking or saying anything about.
And what did the kittens do? Well, I believe Tompkins felt rather small and wished he hadn’t spoken. However, they were alone in the room now, so it was a good opportunity for planning fresh mischief, and I only wish I had more pages in this book that I might tell you all about it.