"Are you--you going to write?" he asked, appalled.

"Certainly. Either some dreadful creature here keeps a bird store and
brings home things that escape, or the house is infested. I don't care
what the janitor says; I did hear squeals and whines and whimpers!"

"Suppose--suppose we wait," he began lamely; but at that moment her blue
eyes widened; she caught him convulsively by the arm, pointing, one snowy
finger outstretched.

"Oh-h!" she said hysterically, and the next instant was standing upon a
chair, pale as a ghost. It was a wonder she had not mounted the dresser,
too, for there, issuing in creepy single file from the wainscoting, came
mice--mice of various tints. A red one led the grewsome rank, a black and
white one came next, then in decorous procession followed the guilty
green one, a yellow one, a blue one, and finally--horror of horrors!--a
red-white-and-blue mouse, carrying a tiny American flag.

He turned a miserable face toward her; she, eyes dilated, frozen to a
statue, saw him advance, hold out a white wand--saw the uncanny
procession of mice mount the stick and form into a row, tails hanging
down--saw him carry the creatures to a box and dump them in.

He was trying to speak now. She heard him stammer something about the
escape of the mice; she heard him asking her pardon. Dazed, she laid her
hand in his as he aided her to descend to the floor; nerveless,
speechless, she sank into the big chair, horror still dilating her eyes.

"It's all up with me," he said slowly, "if you write to the owners. I've
bribed the janitor to say nothing. I'm dreadfully mortified that these