quarter of an hour. Put them in there and leave the door open. I will
close it in an hour when the oven cools."

The next day Frank was again at work. It took him all day to get fur and
feather to lie exactly as he wished them. In the afternoon he asked the
naturalist for a piece of flat board, three feet long, and a perch, but
said that instead of the piece of board he should prefer mounting them
in a case at once. The old man had not one in the shop large enough,
and therefore Frank arranged his group temporarily on the table. On the
board lay the cat. At first sight she seemed asleep, but it was clearly
only seeming. Her eyes were half open, the upper lip was curled up, and
the sharp teeth showed. The hind feet were drawn somewhat under her as
in readiness for an instant spring. Her front paws were before her, the
talons were somewhat stretched, and one paw was curved. Her ears lay
slightly back. She was evidently on the point of springing. The macaw
perch, which had been cut down to a height of two feet, stood behind
her. The bird hung by its feet, and, head downwards, stretched with open
beak towards the tip of the cat's tail, which was slightly uplifted. On
a piece of paper Frank wrote, "Dangerous Play."

It was evening before he had finished perfectly to his satisfaction.
Then he called the naturalist in. The old man stopped at the door,
surveying the group. Then he entered and examined it carefully.

"Wonderful!" he said. "Wonderful! I should have thought them alive.
There is not a shop in the West End where it could have been turned out
better, if so well.

"Lad, you are a wonder! Tell me now who and what are you? I saw when you
first addressed me that you were not what you seemed to be, a working
lad."

"I have been well educated," Frank said, "and was taught to preserve
and stuff by my father, who was a great naturalist. My parents died
suddenly, and I was left on my own resources, which," he said, smiling
faintly, "have hitherto proved of very small avail. I am glad you are
pleased. If you will take me into your service I will work hard and make
myself useful in every way. If you require references I can refer you
to the doctor who attended us in the country; but I have not a single
friend in London except a railway porter, who has most kindly and
generously taken me in and sheltered me for the last two months."

"I need no references," the old man said; "your work speaks for itself
as to your skill,