Both little girls heard this, and Beata suddenly began speaking rather fast, and Rosy saw that her cheeks had got very red.
"Do you think your mamma would mind if I went upstairs to take off my hat? I think my face must be dirty with the train," said Beata.
"Don't you like staying here?" said Rosy, rather crossly. "I think you should stay till mother tells it to go," for she wanted to hear what more her mother and the gentleman said to each other, the very thing that made Beata uncomfortable.
Beata looked a little frightened.
"I didn't mean to be rude," she said. Then suddenly catching sight of Manchon, she exclaimed, "Oh, what a beautiful cat! May I go and stroke him?"
"If you like," said Rosy, "but he isn't really a nice cat." And then, seeing that Beata looked at her with curiosity, she forgot about listening to the big people, and, getting up, led Beata to Manchon's cushion.
"Everybody says he's pretty," she went on, "but I don't think so, because I think he's a kind of bad fairy. You don't know how he froos sometimes, in a most horrible way, as if he was mocking you. He knows I don't like him, for whenever I'm vexed he looks pleased."
"Does he really?" said Beata. "Then I don't like him. I shouldn't look pleased if you were vexed, Rosy."
"Wouldn't you?" said Rosy, doubtfully.
"No, I'm sure I wouldn't. I wonder your mamma likes Manchon if he has such an unkind dis—I can't remember the word, it means feelings, you know."