hat starts up?' said the girl, in an aggrieved voice.
'And if _I_ had proposed such a thing!'

'My dear,' said Mr. Falkirk, 'you would have been perfectly
safe at Dr. Maryland's. And much better off than in this old
mill. I am not sure but I ought to have made you go.'

'What do you mean by "enemies," just now, Mr. Falkirk?'

'There's an old proverb,' said Mr. Falkirk with a quirl of his
lips, 'that "a cat may look at a king." And no doubt it is a
queen's liability. But how am I to guard you from the teeth
and the claws?'

'My dear sir, very few cats are dangerous. I am not much
afraid of being scratched.'

'Have you any idea how many of your grimalkins are coming to
Chickaree this Summer?'

'No, sir. The more the better; for then they will have full
occupation for their claws without me.'

'Ah, my dear,' said Mr. Falkirk, 'don't you know that the cat
gets within springing distance before the claws are shown?'

'Yes, sir; but you are presupposing a stationary mouse. Pray,
how many fierce, soft-pawed, sharp-clawed monsters preside
over your ideas at present?'

'Six or seven,' said Mr. Falkirk with the utmost gravity.
'Fortune has come upon you suddenly, Wych.'

It was very pretty, the way she laughed and flushed.

'They are not all troubled with whiskers, sir--my kind medical
friend, for instance.'

'You think so! Pray, in your judgment, what is he, then?'

'Not a cat, sir, and yet no lion. Mr. Rollo calls him a
"specimen." '

'Of what?' (dryly enough.)

'I rebuked him for the expression, sir, but did not inquire
its meaning.'

'Do you suppose that the English traveller, Mr. Shenstone,
will come to Chickaree this Summer for the purpose of
inspecting the Morton manufactories?'

'Let us 'ope not, sir. Mr. Morton will, for his home is just
there. He told me so.'

'And young Nightingale has it in his mind to spend a good deal
of the Summer at his aunt's, Mrs. Lasalle's; for he told me
so. I saw him in town.'

'Mr. Falkirk, you are not a bit like yourself to-day. Are all
men cats, sir?' (very gravely.)

'My dear,' said Mr. Falkirk, 'most men are, when they see a
Chickaree mouse in their path!'

'Poor little me!' said Wych Hazel, laughing. She was silent a
minute, then went cheerfully on. 'I know, Mr. Falkirk, I shall
depend upon you! We're in a fairy tale, you remember, sir, and
you must be the three dogs.'

'Will you trust me, Wych, when I take such a shape to your
eyes?'

'Do you remember