“I really can’t thank you enough, Lady Waring,” said Matron, with the gleam of devotion in her eyes, “for your sympathy and forbearance last night. But I mustn’t talk of myself. I see you have not taken my advice about staying in bed for a day. You really need someone to look after you.”
Lady Waring asked after the kitten.
“He is quite devoted to me already,” said Matron proudly. “He follows me everywhere. He wanted to come out with me, but I said, ‘No, Winston’—you know it feels quite funny to call a cat Winston, but I dare say Mr. Churchill has quite a number of cats called after him—‘No, Winston,’ I said, ‘Auntie is going walkies and it’s too wet for little p***y-paws,’ and he understood every word I said. So Sergeant Hopkins happened to be passing and p***y—Winston, I should say, but
