"Ah! that's right. You're a jolly old rascal. Why did you not speak at
once, eh?" and Peterkin put forward his mouth and kissed the cat on the
nose!
"Yes," continued Peterkin, after a pause, "I love you. D'you think I'd
say so if I didn't, you black villain? I love you because I've got to
take care of you, and to look after you, and to think about you, and to
see that you don't die--"
"Mew, me-a-w!" said the cat.
"Very good," continued Peterkin; "quite true, I have no doubt. But
you've no right to interrupt me, sir. Hold your tongue till I have done
speaking. Moreover, cat, I love you because you came to me the first
time you ever saw me, and didn't seem to be afraid, and appeared to be
fond of me, though you didn't know that I wasn't going to kill you. Now
that was brave, that was bold, and very jolly, old boy, and I love you
for it--I do!"
Again there was a pause of a few minutes, during which the cat looked
placid, and Peterkin dropped his eyes upon its toes, as if in
contemplation. Suddenly he looked up.
"Well, cat, what are you thinking about now? Won't speak, eh? Now tell
me, don't you think it's a monstrous shame that those two scoundrels,
Jack and Ralph, should keep us waiting for our supper so long?"
Here the cat arose, put up its back and stretched itself, yawned
slightly, and licked the point of Peterkin's nose!
"Just so, old boy; you're a clever fellow. I really do believe the
brute understands me!" said Peterkin, while a broad grin overspread his
face as he drew back and surveyed the cat.
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