“If there is fish to-night,” I said, “you shall have some.” But I was not yet in a position to make myself understood.
“Pussy's been sleepin' on your box all the afternoon, sir,” said the maid when I came in to tea. “I couldn't get her to come off; and when I did turn her out of the room, I do believe she climbed up and got in again by the winder.”
“I don't mind at all,” I said; “let her be there if she likes.” And indeed I felt quite grateful to the cat. I don't know that she could have done much if there had been any attempt on the box, but I was sure her intentions were good.
There was fish that evening, and she had a good deal of it. She did not say much that I could follow, but chiefly sang songs without words.
* * * * *
Not to go over the preliminaries again, I did, when the proper time came, touch my tongue with the contents of the third jar. I found that it worked in this way: I could not hear what I was saying myself, when I was talking to an animal: I only thought the remark very clearly, and then I felt my tongue and lips moving in an odd fashion, which I can't describe. But with the small people in human shape it was different. I spoke in the ordinary way to them, and though I dare say my voice went up an octave or two, I can't say I perceived it.
The village was there again to-night, and the life going on in it seemed much the same. I was set upon making acquaintance in a natural sort of way with the people, and as it would not do to run any risk of startling them, I just took my place near the window and made some pretence of playing Patience. I thought it likely that some of the young people would come and watch me, in spite of the fright they had had the night before. And it was not long before I heard a rustling in the shrubs under the window and voices saying:
“Is he in there? Can you see? Oh, I say, do look out: you all but had me over that time!”
They were suddenly quiet after this, and apparently one must have, very cautiously, climbed up and looked into the room. When he got down again there was a great fuss.
“No, is he really?” “What d'you say he was doing?” “What sort of charm?” “I say, d'you think we'd better get down?” “No, but what is he really doing?” “Laying out rows of flat things on the table, with marks on them.” “I don't believe it.” “Well, you go and look yourself.” “All right, I shall.” “Yes, but, I say, do look out: suppose you get shut in and we're late for the bell?” “Why, you fool, I shan't go into the room, only stop on the window-sill.” “Well, I don't know, but I do believe he saw us last night, and my father said he thought so too.” “Oh, well, he can't move very quick, anyway, and he's some way off the window. I shall go up.”