a chance to catch that mouse."

"O grandmother, I'm sure he will," said Ethelwyn, earnestly; so she
talked to him that afternoon about it.

It had rained in the afternoon,--a cold drizzly rain, so Nancy had
lighted a little snapping wood-fire in Grandmother Van Stark's
sitting-room. Into this opened the sleeping room in which was Ethelwyn's
small bed, and the big mahogany tester bed, where Grandmother Van Stark
had slept for more years than Ethelwyn could imagine.

Ethelwyn put Johnny Bear and his basket in front of the grate. It was
so "comfy" that he stopped yowling at once and began to purr.

"How does middle night look, Nancy?" said Ethelwyn, as she lay in her
little brass bed, watching the dancing shadows on the wall.

"Like any other time, only stiller," replied Nancy. "Go to sleep now,
Miss Ethelwyn."

So Ethelwyn presently fell asleep and woke up with a little start just
as the clock was striking twelve.

Johnny Bear was stirring around uneasily in the other room. He had been
very still; his stomach was full, and his body warm, so that there
really was no possible excuse for making a noise. In fact, there was a
faint scratching in the closet that concentrated his attention, and
froze him into a statue of silence.

Presently he pounced, and a little shriek, piteous and faint, told the
story. Then Johnny Bear played ball with his victim, and ran up and
down the room as gaily as if he had never known what it was to cry.

But all at once something went wrong; a crackle in the grate sent a
glowing coal over the fender and on the rug, where it smoldered and
smoked, and then ran out a little tongue of flame. So Johnny Bear began
to mew again loudly and uneasily, the clock struck twelve, and Ethelwyn
awoke.

"Hush, Johnny Bear, dear," she said softly from the other room; "you'll
wake up grandmother."

But grandmother was awake, and lifted her head just in time to see the
tongue of fire.

She was over the side of the bed in a minute, and, snatching up a
pitcher of water, dashed it over the rug.

Ethelwyn jumped up too and snatched Johnny Bear in her arms.

"I don't think twelve o'clock at night looks stiller, do you,
grandmother?" she asked. "Aren't you glad Johnny Bear came to live with
us, and--oh! oh!" he cried, for she had stepped on a soft little mouse,
lying quite still now on the floor.

"O Johnny, how could you?" she said sorrowfully, quite forgetting her
instructions to him in the afternoon.