I Am A Cat. Natsume Soseki

you say? If you don’t stop being insolent, I shall just ring off. You understand? I can promise you you’ll be sorry. Hello. Are you still there? Hello, hello. Speak up. Answer me. Hello, hello, hello.” Chōkichi seems to have hung up, for no answer is forthcoming. The girl is now in something of a tizzy and she grinds away at the telephone handle as though she’s gone off her head. A lapdog somewhere around her feet suddenly starts to yap, and, realizing I’d better keep my wits about me, I quickly hop off the veranda and creep in under the house.

      Just then I hear approaching footsteps and the sound of a paper-door being slid aside. I tilt my head to listen.

      “Your father and mother are asking for you, Miss.” It sounds like a parlor-maid.

      “So who cares?” was the vulgar answer.

      “They sent me to fetch you because they’ve something they want to tell you.”

      “You’re being a nuisance. I said I just don’t care.” She snubs the maid once more.

      “They said it’s something to do with Mr. Coldmoon.” The maid tries tactfully to put this young vixen into a better humor.

      “I couldn’t care less if they want to talk about Coldmoon or Piddlemoon. I abominate that man with his daft face looking like a bewildered gourd.” Her third sour outburst is directed at the absent Coldmoon. “Hello,” she suddenly goes on, “when did you start dressing your hair in the Western style?”

      The parlor-maid gulps and then replies as briefly as she can “Today.”

      “What sauce. A mere parlor-maid, what’s more.” Her fourth attack comes in from a different direction. “And isn’t that a brand new collar you’ve got on?”

      “Yes, it’s the one you gave me recently. I’ve been keeping it in my box because it seemed too good for the likes of me, but my other collar became so grubby I thought I’d make the change.”

      “When did I give it you?”