The Maltese cat came up to the Purrers with a jaunty air. He was strikingly like Ban-Ban, with the same short, Maltese-kind of nose and the same up-and-coming air which the Founder wore, but the Purrers and Lois and Rob thought he was not quite as beautiful in figure.
The white cat accompanying him hung back shyly. She had a less delicate face, more chubby than Kiku-san’s, but she had his gentle air.
“Gentlemen, your servant,” said the Maltese cat, bowing to the Purrers with an impressive air, and expressing himself in a manner which at once betrayed the fact that he had lived with a family where English classics were read aloud. “My name is Ods Bobs, gentlemen; it is a name as old as the reign of Queen Elizabeth. This lady is called Lady Blanche. We lived in the same house in town; one of us had been brought up by one old maiden sister, the other by the other. Lady Blanche and I were looking forward to being married and living happily ever after, looking forward to spending our lives together to their end, just as we had spent them together thus far from kittenhood, when—imagine our horror!—I learned that the person who had brought me up intended sending me away to her brother’s little girl, while Lady Blanche stayed on with her protector! It was not possible to submit to such a fate! We made up our minds to run away; of course to run away together. And where were we so likely to run as to Purrington, of which we had heard such glowing accounts from other cats? So we came; here we are! Will you receive us among you?”
“Gladly,” cried all the Purrers.
“Isn’t that the very strangest thing, that another Maltese cat and this little white lady should come here just when we are taking away Ban-Ban and Kiku-san?” whispered Lois to Rob. “It looks as if they had come to take their places,” she added, as Rob nodded his assent to her question.
“Then we will gladly stay,” Ods Bobs went on. “But one thing more. We were to have had a pretty wedding on the day after to-morrow—no end of guests were invited. We can get on without the guests and the prettiness, but we should like a wedding, and to set up housekeeping for ourselves at once. Can we be married here?”
The Purrers looked at one another, puzzled. There had been no demand for such a thing before, and they were at a loss how to answer. Then they looked at Rob for a suggestion.
“I think the mayor can marry them,” Rob began, slowly, but was interrupted by Bidelia’s little excited mew as she ran over to throw her paws around Lady Blanche’s neck, who was blushing till the tip of her pink nose was rosy red.
“The mayor!” cried Bidelia. “Tommy Traddles—the very thing! We’ll give you the loveliest wedding, my dear! Come, Laura! Come, all lady Purrers, and the kittens! We must gather quantities of catnip and make garlands for the hall. And order all the ribbon there is at the shop. Won’t you come with us, Lady Blanche; we shall want to ask you something every five minutes. Why, you’re not much older than my girls!”
“I’m nine months old,” said Lady Blanche, through her blushes.