Next morning, when Auntie May came and stood over the basket, she seemed very grave.
'Rosamond, come here,' she said. 'Which kitten did you hold out of the window?'
'I am afraid I don't quite know which,' Rosamond said, very much puzzled and upset, as I could tell by her voice. 'It was one of the girls, Blanch or Zobeide, but I am sure I could not say which of them. Why? What is the matter?'
'Come and look!' said Auntie May.
Then I myself noticed for the first time that Blanch was lying a little way off mother, and breathing very funnily. Her body seemed to break in half under the skin with every breath she took, and she gave a great shake right across her. She was flattened out and her legs parted wide so that her chest was spread along the floor of the basket. She made a rushing noise with her breathing like what one hears when the bath is filling.
'She looks just like a frog!' said Rosamond. 'Oh, Auntie May, is she ill, and is it my fault?'
'Do you think it was Blanch you held over the window?'
'I said before I don't know, but perhaps it was.'
'It looks rather like it,' said Auntie May sadly, and put on her hat and jacket and fetched the doctor.
'Lor', for a kitten!' said Mary.