ween your studio and my wall, and the little rascal crept into your
place."

She stood looking at him uncertainly: "Are there really such things as
green mice?"

"Well," he explained, "I fancy this one was originally white. Somebody
probably dyed it green."

"But who on earth would be silly enough to do such a thing?"

His ears grew red--he felt them doing it.

After a moment she said: "I am glad you told me that you, too, saw this
unspeakable mouse. I have decided to write to the owners of the house and
request an immediate investigation. Would--would it be too much to ask
you to write also?"

"Are you--you going to write?" he asked, appalled.

"Certainly. Either some dreadful creature here keeps a bird store and
brings home things that escape, or the house is infested. I don't care
what the janitor says; I did hear squeals and whines and whimpers!"

"Suppose--suppose we wait," he began lamely; but at that moment her blue
eyes widened; she caught him convulsively by the arm, pointing, one snowy
finger outstretched.

"Oh-h!" she said hysterically, and the next instant was standing upon a
chair, pale as a ghost. It was a wonder she had not mounted the dresser,
too, for there, issuing in creepy single file from the wainscoting, came
mice--mice of various tints. A red one led the grewsome rank, a black and
white one came next, then in decorous procession followed the guilty
green one, a yellow one, a blue one, and finally--horror of horrors!--a
red-white-and-blue mouse, carrying a tiny American flag.

He turned a miserable face toward her; she, eyes dilated, frozen to a
statue, saw him advance, hold out a white wand--saw the uncanny
procession of mice mount the stick and form into a row, tails hanging
down--saw him carry the creatures to a box and dump them in.

He was trying to speak now. She heard him stammer something about the
escape of the mice; she heard him asking her pardon. Dazed, she laid her
hand in his as he aided her to descend to the floor; nerveless,
speechless, she sank into the big chair, horror still dilating her eyes.

"It's all up with me," he said slowly, "if you write to the owners. I've
bribed the janitor to say nothing. I'm dreadfully mortified that these
things have happened to annoy you."

The color came back into her face; amazement dominated her anger. "But
why--why do you keep such creatures?"

"Why shouldn't I?" he asked. "It is my profession."

"Your--what?"

"My professio