She said it quite simply, but it pleased Rosy all the same, and she began considering how much of a start it was fair for Bee to have.
When that important point was settled, off they set. Bee was the first to arrive.
"You must have given me too much of a start," she said, laughing. "Look here, Colin and Rosy, there's the big cat on the window-seat. Doesn't he look solemn?"
"He looks very cross and nasty—he always does," said Rosy. Then, safely sheltered behind the window, she began tapping on the pane.
"Manchon, Manchon," she said, "you can't scratch me through the glass, so I'll just tell you what I think of you for once. You're a cross, mean, pretending creature. You make everybody say you're so pretty and so sweet when really you're—" she stopped in a fright—"Bee, Bee," she cried, "just look at his face. I believe he's heard all I said."
"Well, what if he did?" said Beata. "Cats don't understand what one means."
"Manchon does," said Rosy. "Come away, Bee, do. Quick, quick. We'd better go in to breakfast."
The two little girls ran off, but Colin stayed behind at the library window.
"I've been talking to Manchon," he said when he came up to them. "He told me to give you his compliments, Rosy, and to say he is very much obliged to you for the pretty things you said to him, and the next time he has the pleasure of seeing you he hopes to have the honour of scratching you to show his gratitude."
Rosy's face got red.