Glumdalkin sat silent for some minutes, seemingly plunged in the most dismal meditations.
'Well,' she said, at length, in a rather mollified tone, 'I have no doubt you would all miss me dreadfully; you, especially, Friskarina, as you are so young and giddy, and so little able to take care of yourself; we will see, I don't wish to do anything unkind by you—'
Just at that moment Grandmagnificolowsky entered with the princess's supper; and as the princess called 'Puss! puss!' several times, Glumdalkin was forced at last to present herself, being rather hungry besides; so she lapped a saucer of cream that her mistress condescended to pour out for her, much more thankfully than usual, and then went off to bed, thinking that, after all, she might, perhaps, vouchsafe to remain in the palace; and she dreamt all night that she was being pursued by wolves in a forest, and was forced to take refuge in a miserable hut, where she had nothing to eat but a bit of mouldy cheese, and nothing to drink but a drop of muddy water.
What did little Friskarina dream about? I can't tell you; but the first thing she thought of, when she awoke in the morning, was poor Tibb, and the wretched cold bed she had that night—how different from her own, with its nice soft warm cushions.
Glumdalkin got up later than usual, and looked nearly as cross as when she went to bed; but she said nothing more about going: and Friskarina took care at breakfast to show her every possible good-natured attention; she gave her by much the largest share of the cream, took the draughty side of the hearthrug herself, and, in short, did everything she could to show that she was anxious to be kind and civil to her; but all her little politenesses seemed nearly lost upon Glumdalkin.
She sate, humped up, all the morning by the fire, with her shoulders up to her ears, and with a gleam in her eyes, if anybody came near her, that was positively savage.
The princess sat in her drawing-room, looking very thoughtful and rather sad. It was certainly very stupid work in the drawing-room that morning.
Friskarina got tired of such dull company, and set off into the garden. But first of all, she ran down into the court-yard, to have a little conversation with Bear, the watch-dog, and hear the news. Moreover, she wanted to find out how Bear's own affairs were going on, and whether he had enough to eat now. And so, after a little chat about the weather, and the probability of the wolves coming down from the mountains, and so forth, she ventured delicately to inquire into the state of his finances, as regarded bones and such things; and she learnt, to her great satisfaction, that, since the new cook came into office, Bear had been living in clover, as it were. Come, thought Friskarina, that's one good thing, however; now I may keep all my spare bits for poor Tibb! So, after a little further conversation about the affairs of the nation, for Bear was a great politician, and read the 'Canine Guardian' three times a week, and talked very learnedly about the game laws, the friends parted. Bear laid himself down to sleep in his kennel, and Friskarina scampered off into the garden, to watch for Tibb's descent over the wall.
Punctually as the great bell of the palace rung, Tibb's ears appeared among the top leaves of the ivy, and in a second she was at her benefactress's side, looking so much less miserable than she did at first, that it quite rejoiced Friskarina to look at her.
And now the house door opened, and out came a page, carrying a large dish full of chicken bones, slices of meat, pieces of fish, and such like delicate morsels, and closely followed by Mrs. Glumdalkin, making such a clamorous mewing that one would have thought she had had no breakfast.