“Whom is he calling gentlemen?” whispered the old lady.
But Blink, by anxiously licking Mr. Lavender's lips, had produced a silence in which the young-lady did not dare reply. The sound of the little cat's purring broke the hush.
“Down, Blink, down!” said Mr. Lavender.
“Watch this little moon-cat and her perfect manners! We may all learn from her how not to be crude. See the light shining through her pretty ears!”
The little cat, who had seen a bird, had left Mr. Lavender's shoulder, and was now crouching and moving the tip of its tail from side to side.
“She would like a bird inside her; but let us rather go and find her some milk instead,” said Mr. Lavender, and he began to rise.
“Do you know, I think he's quite sane,” whispered the old lady, “except, perhaps, at intervals. What do you?”
“Glorious print!” cried Mr. Lavender suddenly, for a journal had fallen from his pocket, and the sight of it lying there, out of his reach, excited him. “Glorious print! I can read you even from here. When the enemy of mankind uses the word God he commits blasphemy! How different from us!” And raising his eyes from the journal Mr. Lavender fastened them, as it seemed to his anxious listeners, on the tree which sheltered them. “Yes! Those unseen presences, who search out the workings of our heart, know that even the most Jingo among us can say, 'I am not as they are!' Come, mooncat!”
So murmuring, he turned and moved towards the house, clucking with his tongue, and followed by Blink.
“Did he mean us?” said the old lady nervously.