Apparently she didn't even know how much Peter knew or where he got his information.
Yesterday, when Margot, Peter and I were peeling potatoes, the conversation somehow turned to Boche.
“We're still not sure whether Boche is a boy or a girl, are we?” I asked.
Yes we are, he answered. “Boche is a tomcat.” I began to laugh. “Some tomcat if he's pregnant.” Peter and Margot joined in the laughter.
You see, a month or two ago Peter informed us that Boche was sure to have kittens before long, because her stomach was rapidly swelling.
However, Boche's fat tummy turned out to be due to a bunch of stolen bones. No kittens were growing inside, much less about to be born.
Peter felt called upon to defend himself against my accusation.
“Come with me. You can see for yourself. I was horsing around with the cat one day, and I could definitely see it was a ‘he.’”
Unable to restrain my curiosity, I went with him to the warehouse.
Boche, however, wasn't receiving visitors at that hour, and was nowhere in sight.
We waited for a while, but when it got cold, we went back upstairs.
Later that afternoon I heard Peter go downstairs for the second time.
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