Of course nobody would have missed this first social event in Purrington for their whiskers, but there had been a good deal said from one to another about Bidelia’s giving a tea. Nobody seemed to think that tea would be very enjoyable.
“It’s all very well to be fashionable,” said the mother of the five kittens—Daisy Bell was her name—“but tea! Whoever heard of a cat that would so much as smell of tea? I should have thought that Mrs. Bidelia Purplay could have found something better to have asked us to than tea! I told my eldest daughter not to be surprised if I came home down sick. Tea! Of all things!”
This was said as Daisy Bell came to the tea—one of the very earliest to arrive she was, too, in spite of her dislike for tea—and her neighbour, Mrs. Blotch, to whom she was talking, fully agreed with her.
Judge, then, the pleasure of these ladies when, on entering Bidelia’s house, a strong odour of catnip met their twitching noses. Here is where breeding tells; Daisy Bell’s manners were not proof against this surprise and the tempting odour.
“Dear me!” she cried, as she came in,—before she had so much as inquired after her hostess’s children, mind you,—“Dear me! How strong that catnip smells! Are you giving a catnip tea? I wouldn’t have dreaded coming if I’d have known that!”
“Did you dread coming?” inquired Bidelia, pleasantly. “I am very sorry. Of course it is a catnip tea. I never thought of stating it on my cards, because I thought everybody would understand. A Five O’Clock Catnip Tea. Why, of course it is. What other kind of a tea would I care to give, or you care to come to?”
“No other kind,” said Daisy Bell, promptly. “What do we do?”
“If you will go into my bedroom you will find Puttel there to take your things, and help you in any little way that you may need help; she acts as my maid to-day. Then, when your fur is arranged and you are quite ready, if you will be so kind as to come back to me I will take you to the dining-room. Madam Laura is good enough to pour for me to-day.”
Daisy Bell did not know what Bidelia meant by pouring for her, but she kept silent, for there was something in little Bidelia’s easy and gracious manner that made Daisy Bell, and Mrs. Blotch, too, conscious that they had not her advantages of education and social experience.
They had not got their things off and their fur smoothed down, and their ribbons retied, before other ladies came, and still others, until Bidelia’s small bedroom was crowded, and Puttel had to give the first comers a hint to go out to her mother, for everybody seemed to dread to make the first move to go back to the parlour.