e maple
grove was a burning bush of colour and the hedge of sweet-briar around
the kitchen yard was a thing of wonder in its subtle tintings. It did
not seem that strife could be in the world, and Susan's faithful heart
was lulled into a brief forgetfulness, although she had lain awake most
of the preceding night thinking of little Jem far out on the Atlantic,
where the great fleet was carrying Canada's first army across the
ocean. Even Cousin Sophia looked less melancholy than usual and
admitted that there was not much fault to be found in the day, although
there was no doubt it was a weather-breeder and there would be an awful
storm on its heels.

"Things is too calm to last," she said.

As if in confirmation of her assertion, a most unearthly din suddenly
arose behind them. It was quite impossible to describe the confused
medley of bangs and rattles and muffled shrieks and yowls that
proceeded from the kitchen, accompanied by occasional crashes. Susan
and Cousin Sophia stared at each other in dismay.

"What upon airth has bruk loose in there?" gasped Cousin Sophia.

"It must be that Hyde-cat gone clean mad at last," muttered Susan. "I
have always expected it."

Rilla came flying out of the side door of the living-room.

"What has happened?" she demanded.

"It is beyond me to say, but that possessed beast of yours is evidently
at the bottom of it," said Susan. "Do not go near him, at least. I will
open the door and peep in. There goes some more of the crockery. I have
always said that the devil was in him and that I will tie to."

"It is my opinion that the cat has hydrophobia," said Cousin Sophia
solemnly. "I once heard of a cat that went mad and bit three
people--and they all died a most terrible death, and turned black as
ink."

Undismayed by this, Susan opened the door and looked in. The floor was
littered with fragments of broken dishes, for it seemed that the fatal
tragedy had taken place on the long dresser where Susan's array of
cooking bowls had been marshalled in shining state. Around the kitchen
tore a frantic cat, with his head wedged tightly in an old salmon can.
Blindly he careered about with shrieks and profanity commingled, now
banging the can madly against anything he encountered, now trying
vainly to wrench it off with his paws.

The sight was so funny that Rilla doubled up with laughter. Susan
looked at her reproachfully.

"I see nothing to laugh at. That beast has broken your ma's big