"How do you know what I want?" she said. "How do you know what I want?"
My Father and my Mother looked at each other. They made little laughs with their eyes.
The Blinded Lady smoothed herself.
"But I certainly am flabbergasted," she said, "about the Old Tom Cat! Whatever in the world made the Young Lassie choose the old battle-scarred Tom?"
Rosalee looked at Carol. Carol looked at me. I looked at the Old Tom.
"Maybe she chose him for—for his historicalness," said my Mother.
"——Maybe," said my Father.
We started for the door. We got as far as the Garden. I remembered something suddenly. I clapped my hands. I laughed right out! "No! She didn't either!" I said. "She chose him for Carol's Ar—Rena—I bet'cher! Carol's going to have him for a Cham—peen! We'll fight him every afternoon! Maybe there'll be tickets!"
"Tickets?" said my Father.
"Oh my dears," said my Mother. "A cat-fight is a dreadful thing!"