“How out of breath you are!” said Bidelia, reproachfully. She was so little that she could jump about all day and never lose her breath. “Tommy Traddles is sunning himself on the fence. Madam Laura is singing a few Felines on the garden bench.” A Feline is a kind of cat hymn.
“Do you think you could trust one of the kittens to hunt up Wutz-Butz, and Kiku-san, and ask them to join us here? I have something catelovelant to tell them,” said Ban-Ban. “Catelovelant” means “lovely for cats.”
“I think Nugget could go; he is getting very plump and reliable,” returned Bidelia. “Puttel, go and ask Madam Laura if she would kindly come over here when she has finished her Felines. And, Dolly Varden, go waken Mr. Traddles and ask him to come. If he is very sound asleep you may stand up on your hind legs and pull his tail—very gently,” she added, as Dolly spun around three times rapidly, “and with the greatest respect.”
The three kittens scampered off, and Ban-Ban with much effort kept himself from pouring out to Bidelia the Great Idea. Fortunately the kittens so quickly got together the cats for whom they were sent that Ban-Ban was saved from choosing between telling or having a fit.
Dolly Varden.
“You had something to say to us, my dear?” hinted Madam Laura after they were all seated. Her voice sounded like rolls of butter rolling, it was so soft and smooth.
“Yes,” said Ban-Ban, his fur beginning to stick up all over and his tail to swell, as it always did when he was excited. “I have had a Great Idea.”
“You were clever from your kittenhood, Bannie,” said Madam Laura, who had known his grandmother.
