"Toots, Toots!" she miowed on, for she wasn't much quicker-witted than the rest of her race.
"No, thank you," thought I; "and if you want five o'clock toots for yourself, I advise you to come here for it." I thought this, but speak I really could not—I was too busy lapping.
It was delicious stuff! But when the dish was about three-parts empty, I began to feel as if I had had a good deal, and to wish I had more appetite for the rest. "It's a shame to leave it, though," I thought, "when a few more laps will empty the dish." For I come of an ancient and rough-tongued cat family, who always lick their platters clean. So I set to work again, though the draught was most annoying, and froze the cream to butter on my whiskers.
I was polishing the glazed earthenware with the family skill, when I became conscious that the house was resounding to the cry of "Toots!"
"Toots, Toots!" squeaked the housemaid, in the servants' hall.
"Toots, Toots!" growled the elderly butler, in the pantry.
"Toots, Toots, cock-a-Toots!" yelled that intolerable creature, the Macaw.
"Toots, Toots!" snapped the cook.
"Miow," said I; for I had finished the cream, and could speak now, though I confess I did not feel equal to any great exertion.
The cook opened the door. She found me—she did not find the cream, which she had left in the dish ready for whipping.