yself to. Girls! Hark!"

The four laborers had dropped upon a long box to rest a few minutes from
their toil. Their low voices had been the only sound. Now distinctly, in
a remote corner of the room, could be heard a little scratch, scratch.
Then across the floor, serene and fearless, "right where I had been
sweeping," Catherine said later with a shiver, ran a small gray mouse.

With one accord the four tucked their skirts about them and sat closer.
No one spoke, but each measured the distance to the door with an
accurate eye. And then, silently, but with haste, they beat a swift
retreat.

The fair wide street before them, the door shut behind them, they drew
deep breaths of relief, though each avoided the others' eyes.

"Some girls wouldn't mind going right up and killing it," said Polly,
"but I simply could not."

"Nor I," said Catherine firmly. "I could go to battle or the stake like
Joan of Arc, but I draw the line at mice."

"What's the matter? What are you all out here for? I thought you came to
clean."

It was Dorcas, of course. The girls hung their heads with shame, and
Bertha, who had defied her so boldly when last they met, answered with
meekness.

"We did. But there's a mouse."

Dorcas looked them all over with an expression of deep scorn.

"Give me the key," she said, and it was given to her.

Then the fearful ones flattened their faces against the unwashed
window-pane to see what would happen. The little gray creature placidly
nibbled a tidbit in a corner. Dorcas approached him. He lifted his head
and regarded her. She faltered a little and glanced behind her. She even
felt hastily of her skirts. The respect in the watching faces lightened
a little. Every woman is born knowing how mice delight to hide in
skirts.

After a moment Dorcas opened the door and came out, passed the group of
watchers without a word and crossed the street to Henderson's. Coming
back a minute later with a trap, she re-entered the room, set the trap
and waited. So did the others, breathless, clinging to each other. Bert
and Dot, driving up on their ten-cent express, saw that something
unusual was going on, and drove quietly around into the alley. Peeping
in at the back window, they took in the situation quickly: Dorcas on one
side of the room, the little gray mouse on the other, the trap between.
The silence lasted for several seconds. Then came a sharp crack! And
Dorcas, throwing her arm across her eyes, ran out of the