ke a clockwork toy still, that couldn't stop. Only he did stop,
against the biggest rat of all, ducking his head, and jerking forward
his shoulder-muscles, and spines, with a sort of a thrust over his
head, and a noise like a pair of expiring bellows; and the prickles hit
home.

That rat removed about one foot in one bound in one-fortieth of a
second, and he let rip one squeal in the process that sent away every
other rat into the nearest available hole as if it had been fired there
from a spring. Then the lady hedgehog took the Heaven-sent opportunity
to complete her rolling-up completely, and Prickles took his own
created opportunity to roll up almost more completely, and--well, they
were rolled up into two balls, you see, and there is nothing more to be
said about them. The rats did that, but it was all they did, except
hurt their noses presently, and delicate, pink, hand-like fore-paws,
and make 'em bleed on prickles. They were very angry indeed, those
unspeakable ones--very angry; but it didn't make any difference to the
hedgehogs. They were there; they were rolled up; they were together.
What _could_ make any difference after _that_? And at last, when the
rats gave them up as a very bad job, they went away _together_, and
that's all there is to say. _Together_ clinches it, you understand.

V

PHARAOH

I

Upon a day Hawkley came to the district, and took up his abode in a
cottage of four rooms. He "did" for himself. Every housekeeper will
know what "did" for himself means. But he did for himself in another
way also. He came to read up for an exam. He told everybody this,
which was one reason why he would be seen at ungodly hours, when no one
was about, going to and from lonely spots, with a pair of blue glasses
on his nose, a book under one arm, and a walking-stick with a silver
band and a tassel--he was always careful to display the silver band and
the tassel--under the other.

Then Nemesis descended upon him.

He was caught by Colonel Lymington's head-keeper on Colonel Lymington's
most strictly preserved wild-bird sanctuary, shooting certain rare
birds--many rare birds. Now, the colonel prided himself on his
sanctuary, and upon the number of rare birds he had living therein, and
the colonel was wroth. Hawkley had, in fact, ruined the sanctuary, and
taken or slain pretty well every other bird worth having in the place,
so that five years would not make good the harm he had done. Mor