“She won’t get it, then,” retorted Elizabeth, “for father is going to have it stuffed; he said so.”
“I wouldn’t mind having it to hang up in my den,” returned Bert. “My, wouldn’t the fellows envy me.”
“You won’t get it any more than Kathie. If anyone has it Dick will.”
“Who says so?”
“I do. Jim said it belonged to me by right of discovery.”
Bert had nothing to say to this, and they continued their way to the blacksmith’s shop where the body of the lynx was laid in state for the observation and comment of the entire community.
Elizabeth’s first remark when, with her father and Bert, she reached home, was in the nature of an argument that was not to be gainsaid. “I told you so, miss,” she exclaimed to her sister. “You made fun of me for wanting to carry a scarifying umbrella; I only wish I had had one this evening.”
“Why, did a cow run you?” inquired Kathie flippantly.
“Nothing of the kind,” returned Elizabeth, on her dignity, and feeling very sure of her position. “I was attacked by a wild beast, a really, truly one. You may believe it or not. Ask father if you think I am making it up.” Elizabeth held her head very high and felt that she had a perfect right to assume an important air.
“What is she talking about, Herbert?” inquired Mrs. Hollins. “And where have you all been? Supper is ready and waiting.”