.

"Well, the fox and the wolf will carry away a much better opinion of the
lion and bear than they had before."

They had reached the house by this time, and for some occult reason Kate
did not immediately enter the parlor, where she had left her sister and
the invalid, who had already been promoted to a sofa and a cushion by
the window, but proceeded directly to her own room. As a manoeuvre to
avoid meeting Mrs. Hale, it was scarcely necessary, for that lady was
already in advance of her on the staircase, as if she had left the
parlor for a moment before they entered the house. Falkner, too, would
have preferred the company of his own thoughts, but Lee, apparently
the only unpreoccupied, all-pervading, and boyishly alert spirit in the
party, hailed him from within, and obliged him to present himself on
the threshold of the parlor with the hare and hawk's wing he was still
carrying. Eying the latter with affected concern, Lee said gravely:
"Of course, I CAN eat it, Ned, and I dare say it's the best part of the
fowl, and the hare isn't more than enough for the women, but I had no
idea we were so reduced. Three hours and a half gunning, and only one
hare and a hawk's wing. It's terrible."

Perceiving that his friend was alone, Falkner dropped his burden in the
hall and strode rapidly to his side. "Look here, George, we must, I must
leave this place at once. It's no use talking; I can stand this sort of
thing no longer."

"Nor can I, with the door open. Shut it, and say what you want quick,
before Mrs. Hale comes back. Have you found a trail?"

"No, no; that's not what I mean."

"Well, it strikes me it ought to be, if you expect to get away. Have
you proposed to Beacon Street, and she thinks it rather premature on a
week's acquaintance?"

"No; but--"

"But you WILL, you mean? DON'T, just yet."

"But I cannot live this perpetual lie."

"That depends. I don't know HOW you're lying when I'm not with you. If
you're walking round with that girl, singing hymns and talking of
your class in Sunday-school, or if you're insinuating that you're a
millionaire, and think of buying the place for a summer hotel, I should
say you'd better quit that kind of lying. But, on the other hand, I
don't see the necessity of your dancing round here with a shot gun, and
yelling for Harkins's blood, or counting that package of greenbacks in
the lap of Miss Scott, to be truthful. It seems to me there ought to be
something between the two