The Kitten was sitting up in bed, wide-eyed and apparently more indignant than frightened.
"Take it away," she exclaimed; "open the window and let it out."
"Let what out?" asked the bewildered Mrs Ffolliot.
"The angel," sobbed the Kitten, "I don't want it, I heard its wings rustling and it disturbed me dreffully—I don't want it, open the window wide."
"The window is open at the top," said Mrs Ffolliot; "but why do you want to get rid of an angel? Surely that's a lovely thing to have in the room."
"No," said the Kitten firmly, "I don't like it, and I don't want it. I don't want no angel I haven't seen. I don't like people in my room when I go to sleep."
Nana and Thirza had melted away, only too thankful not to be called upon to arbitrate in the angel question. Mrs Ffolliot and her small daughter stared at each other in the flickering firelight.
"I'm sure," said Mrs Ffolliot, trying hard to steady her voice, "that no self-respecting angel would stay for a minute with a little girl that didn't want him. You may be certain of that."
"A she might," the Kitten suggested suspiciously.
"No angel would," Mrs Ffolliot said decidedly.