'Do you suppose that the English traveller, Mr. Shenstone, will come to Chickaree this Summer for the purpose of inspecting the Morton manufactories?'
'Let us 'ope not, sir. Mr. Morton will, for his home is just there. He told me so.'
'And young Nightingale has it in his mind to spend a good deal of the Summer at his aunt's, Mrs. Lasalle's; for he told me so. I saw him in town.'
'Mr. Falkirk, you are not a bit like yourself to-day. Are all men cats, sir?' (very gravely.)
'My dear,' said Mr. Falkirk, 'most men are, when they see a
Chickaree mouse in their path!'
'Poor little me!' said Wych Hazel, laughing. She was silent a minute, then went cheerfully on. 'I know, Mr. Falkirk, I shall depend upon you! We're in a fairy tale, you remember, sir, and you must be the three dogs.'
'Will you trust me, Wych, when I take such a shape to your eyes?'
'Do you remember?' said she, not heeding. 'The first one with eyes like saucers, looking—so! And the next with eyes like mill wheels—so! And the next, with eyes like the full moon!—' At which point Miss Hazel's own eyes were worth looking at.
'You do not answer me, I observe. Never mind. A woman's understanding, I have frequently observed, develops like a prophecy.'
The night in the mill was better, on the whole, than it promised. No sound awoke Wych Hazel, till little messengers of light came stealing through every crack and knot hole of the mill, and a many-toed Dorking near by had six times proclaimed himself the first cock in creation, let the other be who he would!