"Guess you did," sniffed Topsy. "You acted like it!"
Pan looked grieved but remembered--it was such a good nap he had!--that when cats have trouble they are apt to be "catty."
"Dreamed"--he went on calmly--"that I had that yellow squalling thing on the floor, and I was just going to put my paw on its soft feathers when I awoke." He licked his chops dreamily at the thought.
"My!" sympathized Topsy, at last interested.
"Come to think of it, Tops, I'm hungry! And er-er--well, you know Mistress doesn't always feed us heartily after--um--well--after, you know."
Topsy bobbed the end of her tail understandingly, and Pan grew confidential. "I know where's a dish of cream! It's down--"
The rest of the sentence was whispered so low that I really couldn't tell you what it was; but Topsy understood, and the two hurried away as noiselessly and gracefully,--yes, and as dignifiedly as only cats can hurry.
The desired cream they found on a high shelf in ...