“No, indeed, I really couldn’t,” said Nancy, donning a bright little smile herself as a cyclist hopes his oil-lamp will avail to protect him against the dazzling onrushing motor-car. “Letizia, darling,” she added firmly. “I’m going to leave you here with Aunt Achsah and Aunt Thyrza for a little while. You will be good, won’t you?”
“But I’d like to stroke the puss-cat.”
“The cat?” Aunt Achsah exclaimed. “What cat?”
“The puss-cat what that man was talking about to muvver,” Letizia explained.
“The cat isn’t allowed in the drawing-room,” Aunt Thyrza said primly.
“Why isn’t he? Does he make messes?”
The two aunts shuddered. It was only too sadly evident that the stage had already corrupted even this four-year-old child.
“Cats live in kitchens,” Aunt Achsah laid down dogmatically.
“Well, can I go to the kitchen, muvver?” Letizia asked. “Because I would like to see the puss-cat. I fink puss-cats are much, much nicer than aunts.”
“No, darling, I want you to stay here,” and with this Nancy hurried out of the room, followed reluctantly by her brother-in-law.