"Oh, but those were the hairy fellows. This is a stingless, hairless,
afternoon party! It won't hurt you at all!"

"It's walking up my pants' leg, just the same. And I'm scared of it:
I'm horrible scared of it! My God! _Me!_ At a jane-junket! ... all the
thin ones diked out with doodads where the bones come through ...
stoking like sailors on shore leave ... all the fat ones grouchy about
their shapes and thinking it's their souls. ..." And he broke out, in
a fluttering falsetto:

"'Oh, Mr. Flint, do please let us see your lovely butterflies! Aren't
they just too perfectly sweet for anything! I wonder why they don't
trim hats with butterflies? Do you know _all_ their names, you awfully
clever man? Do _they_ know their names, too, Mr. Flint? Butterflies
must be so very interesting! And so decorative, particularly on china
and house linen! How you have the heart to kill them, I can't imagine.
Just think of taking the poor mother-butterflies away from the dear
little baby-ones!' ...--and me having to stand there and behave like a
perfect gentleman!" He looked at me, scowling:

"Now, you look here: I can stand 'em single-file, but if I'm made to
face 'em in squads, why, you blame nobody but yourself if I foam at
the mouth and chase myself in a circle and snap at legs, you hear me?"

"I hear you," said I, coldly. "You didn't get your orders from _me_.
_I_ think your proper place is in the woods. You go tell Madame what
you've just told me--or should you like me to warn her that you're
subject to rabies?"

"For the love of Mike, parson! Have a heart! Haven't I got troubles
enough?" he asked bitterly.

"You are behaving more like an unspanked brat than a grown man."

"I wasn't weaned on teaparties," said he, sulkily, "and it oughtn't
to be expected I can swallow 'em at sight without making a face and--"

"Whining," I finished for him. And I added, with a reminiscent air:
"Rule 1: Can the Squeal!"

He glared at me, but as I met the glare unruffled, his lip presently
twisted into a grin of desperate humor. His shoulders squared.

"All right," said he, resignedly. And after an interval of dejected
silence, he remarked: "I've sort of got a glimmer of how Madame feels
about this. She generally knows what's what, Madame does, and I
haven't seen her make a mistake yet. If she thinks it's my turn to
come on in and take a hand in any game she's playing, why, I guess I'd
better play up to her lead the best I know how ... an