'I can't take those cats away.'
'Lor' lumme!' exclaimed the man; 'if 'ere ain't another on 'em.
Are you real, miss, or something I'll wake up from presently?'
'I am quite real,' said Jane, relieved to find that a lisp was not
needed to make the burglar understand her. 'And so,' she added,
'are the cats.'
'Then send for the police, send for the police, and I'll go quiet.
If you ain't no realler than them cats, I'm done, spunchuck--out of
time. Send for the police. I'll go quiet. One thing, there'd not
be room for 'arf them cats in no cell as ever _I_ see.'
He ran his fingers through his hair, which was short, and his eyes
wandered wildly round the roomful of cats.
'Burglar,' said Jane, kindly and softly, 'if you didn't like cats,
what did you come here for?'
'Send for the police,' was the unfortunate criminal's only reply.
'I'd rather you would--honest, I'd rather.'
'I daren't,' said Jane, 'and besides, I've no one to send. I hate
the police. I wish he'd never been born.'
'You've a feeling 'art, miss,' said the burglar; 'but them cats is
really a little bit too thick.'
'Look here,' said Jane, 'I won't call the police. And I am quite
a real little girl, though I talk older than the kind you've met
before when you've been doing your burglings.
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