"Why," said Dot, in a most matter-of-fact way, "it's only Bungle and Popocatepetl."
"Popo——who?" gasped Mrs. Forsyth, at that amazing name.
Dot repeated it. She had learned to pronounce it perfectly and was rather proud of the accomplishment.
There was another movement on the sofa. The two cats were dressed in doll clothes, and their activities were somewhat restricted, but they had sensed the presence of the dog the instant it had come into the room.
"Oh! oh!" cried Dot, suddenly. "Bungle! you be good. Petal! don't you dare move!"
The cheerful little dog, quite unsuspicious of harm, had trotted after its mistress. Despite the clinging doll clothes, the tails of Bungle and Popocatepetl swelled, their backs went up, and they began to spit!
"Tootsie!" screamed the doctor's wife in alarm.
Dot shouted at the cats, too, but neither they, nor the dog, were in a mood to obey. The Pomeranian was too scared, and Bungle and Popocatepetl were too angry.
Tootsie saw her enemies just as the cats leaped. Hampered by the garments Dot had put upon them, both Bungle and Popocatepetl went head-over-heels when they first landed on the floor, and with a frightened "ki, yi!" Tootsie distanced them to the far end of the room.
There was no cover there for the terrified pup, and when the two cats—clawing at the dresses and threatening vengeance—came after the dog, Tootsie tried to crawl under the three-sided walnut "whatnot" that stood in the corner between the windows.