'Thank you very much,' Auntie May said, 'but Tom, my brother-in-law, will meet us. There he is!'
Then, I think, she forgot all about the bishop, for she said to some one at the carriage window, in a fearfully excited voice, 'Oh, Tom, how is she? I have brought a kitten—'
Tom did not answer, but I fancy he shook his head, or something that didn't seem hopeful, for Auntie May squeaked, 'Oh dear!' in not at all her usual voice.
Tom seemed only business-like. 'Where's your ticket? Hand it over. Had you to take a dog ticket for this little brute?'
'Tom!'
'All right. Come on!'
They did not say a word to each other till we had walked a little way and stood about a little, and Auntie May had taken a step up with me and sat down. And then the rolling and rocking began again. I was nearly dead with fuss and different ways of travelling. But I listened to what was said.
'She hardly knew us yesterday,' he was saying. He had a deep big voice, much louder than May's father's voice, but then Mr. Graham is an artist and Tom Gilmour is a sportsman, and is always calling to things across bogs and moors to follow him or come to heel, so mother told me. He went on, choking rather:
'It was a sort of faint. She got quite cold, and the nurse said, "Anything to rouse her, sir! I wish she had a pet, sir!" And I was sending for you anyhow, and so I said, "Would a kitten do?" and the woman said, "Might try it, sir." So I sent that message to you, "Bring a cat!" Pretty comic, wasn't it? Ho, ho!'
It was a melancholy sort of cackle, but Auntie May cried out: