ed that to break cover was certain death.

Death, indeed, was very busy outside. Every minute a dog's yelp, the shout
of its master, and the dull thud of a bludgeon, told plainly enough the
tale of some unhappy rodent's dash for freedom.

And so the sun went down blood-red.

It was midnight, however, before the remnant gathered themselves together,
and agreed on flight. The trek was headed by an old brown rat. Of the
dozen that survived it, he was the only mouse.

* * * * *

Better, after all, to have never finished the journey, and, yet, why
should he complain? He had lived longer than most, and had had his supreme
moments.

* * * * *

"'The mouse behind the mouldering wainscot shriek'd.'"

He had been dozing behind the wainscot in the dining-room, and the squeak
of irritation had been due to a passing spider. The apt quotation reached
him through the panel.

"_Squeaked_, surely?" The correction came in a soft, woman's voice.

"No, _shrieked_; I am certain of it."

"Squeaked, I think; a mouse doesn't shriek."

[Illustration: HE RUSHED OFF TO TELL HER BEFORE HE SHOULD FORGET IT.]

"Ah, but this mouse had a poetic licence."

"Look it up."

"I will."

The book was taken from within two inches of where he sat.

"'Shrieked' it is."

It amused him vastly, for he had never shrieked in his life.

"Do you like mice?" It was the first voice speaking again.

"Hate them--smelly little things."

[Illustration: SHE WAS A VERITABLE QUEEN AMONG MICE.]

"Do you remember that thing of Suckling's?--

"'Her feet beneath her petticoat,
Like little mice, ran in and out,
As if they feared the light.'

"Pretty, rather, I think."

"What's pretty?"

"Oh, I don't know--your feet, I suppose."

[Illustration: HE HAD FOUGHT FIVE SUITORS TO WIN HER.]

He felt disappointed. Surely it was the feet that profited by the
comparison. Still, he knew that the whole conversation would amuse his
wife, and rushed off to tell her before he should forget it.

He had been rather anxious about her of late. Only the previous evening he
had peeped from behind the bookcase and seen her backed into a corner, and
defying six feet of solid humanity with brandished paws. Behaviour of this
kind was courageous, but unmouselike, and would assuredly get her into
difficulties.

He found her in the midst of tiny wisps of paper, thread, and wool, that
had been