Everything was so good. There wasn't much room to walk about, and when
I stepped over the jelly to reach the cheese, which seemed to tempt my
appetite more than anything, my long tail switched the roses out of
the bowl in the middle of the table. That confused me slightly, and in
trying not to upset anything else I stepped flat into the butter, and
dragged my little plaid flannel skirt through the applesauce. Why they
persist in dressing me in this ridiculous fashion is more than I can
understand.
You may be sure that I would have starved a week rather than have
climbed on that table, if I had had the slightest foreboding of what
was to follow. But how could I know that Miss Patricia was to choose
that very moment for walking into the dining-room? She had just come
in from the street, for she had on her bonnet, and carried an umbrella
in her hand. Phil and little Elsie followed her.
"Oh, you little torment!" she cried, when she saw me, and, before I
could make up my mind which way to jump, she flew at me with her
umbrella, trying to strike me without breaking any of the dishes. I
dodged this way and that. Seeing no way of escape from the room,
I ran up the curtains, over and under the chairs, around and
around,--anywhere to keep out of her way. She was after me at every
step. When I ran up to the top of the high, carved back of the
old-fashioned sideboard, I found myself out of her reach for one
breathless minute.
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