“I did not know,” I said confusedly, then I began to watch—to watch just as an ordinary cat looks after a mouse. Our family was not much good at catching mice. My father is a little bit disinclined to exert himself, and Serena thinks mouse-catching vulgar.
“We must make some difference between ourselves and common cats,” she often says, “so let it be as regards our table.”
Well, I did not at first find Maine very different from Massachusetts. However, after a while there was more forest—wild-looking forest, and Mona told me that in those woods the gentlemen from Boston came to shoot deer.
“Now, Black-Face,” she said at last, “be all alive. Anthony and the baggage-master have just been saying that we are near our destination.”
I told Serena and Slyboots. Serena's eyes sparkled, but Slyboots never uncurled herself. Poor Dolly pricked up her ears just a little bit, and I stretched my neck to see all I could from the car door.
“This is the opening of the valley,” said the baggage-master, “the Black River Valley. Those are the Purple Hills on the north, and the Green Hills on the south.”
“Have you ever been here before?” I asked Mona.
“No, never, but I have been in other country places. This is very charming though!”
Charming!—it was exquisite, and quite took my breath away. “Serena,” I said, “can you see?”
“Not a bit,” she replied bitterly; “describe it to me. Is it like the Common?”