Phyllis was singing, as usual. The two girls in the room near by heard her chanting, to a tune of her own:
"Stay, stay at home, my heart, and rest; Home-keeping hearts are happiest, For those that wander they know not where Are full of trouble and full of care; To stay at home is best."
Then she apparently tired of Longfellow, for there were a few moments of silence and chatter to the kitten alternately. Suddenly she began singing to a swinging, not particularly tuneful tune, like those the little children use for the games they play in the street. This time it was a funny little song of her own:
"Homy and happy, cheery and bright, New tins to left of me, new tins to right, A little white kitten to pet and to cuddle, And purr back my peace when I get in a muddle; A getting-well mother, three girls, and a cat-- My joys are so many they're crowding the flat!
Look out, Truchi-ki; you'll fall!" And Jessamy and Bab heard a saucepan cover drop, and guessed that Phyllis had put up her hand to steady Truce on her shoulder.
"Copyrighted, Phyl?" called Bab; but Phyllis, on her knees looking at her cake in the oven, did not hear her, and Jessamy put her hand over her sister's lips.
"Let her alone, Bab. Listen! She may improvise more," she said. "Now she's beginning to sweep, and that usually inspires her."
Phyllis's broom flew, and Jessamy and Bab waited developments. Evidently Truce had dismounted, and was ready for the frolic sweeping always meant to him, for they heard Phyllis laugh, and cry: "Look out, Truchi-ki! How do you expect me to sweep if you hold my broom? I'll spank you, kitten; you've never had one tiny, least spanking in all your life." Phyllis always talked nonsense to Truce, whose name had developed through an Italian pronunciation of Truce, Truchi, into the Japanese-sounding Truchi-ki, which Phyllis said meant, "Trucie, ki-tten," but which Jessamy more correctly defined as meaning nonsensical affection. Luckily for them, however, all the Wyndhams loved nonsense.
To prove it, Phyllis began to sing once more, a long jumble of nonsense in one rhyme:
"Trouble found me where I sat, But I didn't care for that, Only learned my lesson pat. Then I took a heavy bat, And I hit old Trouble--spat! And I gave him tit for tat. Last, I drowned him in a vat. Now I've learned to make a hat, Wash a dish and sweep a mat, And I think I'm getting fat In this blessed little flat, With my snowy Trucie-cat-- I'm so very, very happy that I don't know where I'm at!"