And once it had a narrow
escape. Of course, your ladyship knows that such lace must never
be starched or ironed. Some people wash it in sugar and water, and
some in coffee, to make it the right yellow colour; but I myself
have a very good receipt for washing it in milk, which stiffens it
enough, and gives it a very good creamy colour. Well, ma'am, I had
tacked it together (and the beauty of this fine lace is that, when
it is wet, it goes into a very little space), and put it to soak in
milk, when, unfortunately, I left the room; on my return, I found
pussy on the table, looking very like a thief, but gulping very
uncomfortably, as if she was half-chocked with something she wanted
to swallow and could not. And, would you believe it? At first I
pitied her, and said 'Poor pussy! poor pussy!' till, all at once, I
looked and saw the cup of milk empty--cleaned out! 'You naughty
cat!' said I, and I believe I was provoked enough to give her a
slap, which did no good, but only helped the lace down--just as one
slaps a choking child on the back. I could have cried, I was so
vexed; but I determined I would not give the lace up without a
struggle for it. I hoped the lace might disagree with her, at any
rate; but it would have been too much for Job, if he had seen, as I
did, that cat come in, quite placid and purring, not a quarter of
an hour after, and almost expecting to be stroked.
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