“You don’t mean that, sir—not in that bundle o’ yours surely, sir?” repeated Jupp with deep fictitious interest, appearing still not quite convinced on the point and as if wishing to have the difficulty cleared up.
This diplomatic course of procedure on the part of the porter removed any lingering scruples the mite had in respect of his good faith.
“Ess, man. I dot kitty here in dundle all wite,” he repeated earnestly in his very impressive little way. “Oo musn’t tell nobody and I’ll so her to ’oo!”
“I won’t breathe a word of it to a soul, sir,” protested Jupp as solemnly and gravely as if he were making his last dying deposition; whereupon the mite, quite convinced of the porter’s trustworthiness and abandoning all further attempt at concealment, deposited his little bundle tenderly on the floor in front of the fireplace, and began to open it with much deliberation.
The little fellow appeared so very serious
about the matter, that Jupp could not help trying to be serious too; but it required the exercise of all the self-command he possessed to refrain from laughing when the motley contents of the red handkerchief were disclosed.
Before the last knot of the bundle was untied by the mite’s busy fingers there crawled out a tiny tortoise-shell kitten, with its diminutive little tail erect like a young bottle-brush, which gave vent to a “phiz-phit,” as if indignant at its long confinement, and then proceeded to rub itself against Jupp’s leg, with a purring mew on recognising a friend.
“So that’s kitty,” said Jupp, holding the little thing up on his knee and stroking it affectionately, the animal signifying its satisfaction by licking the back of his hand with its furry little red tongue, and straightening its tiny tail again as stiff as a small poker.
“Ess, man. Dat’s kitty,” murmured the mite, too much occupied undoing the last knots of the bundle to waste time in further speech for the moment, struggling as he was at the job with might and main.