liked her fritters and waffles. I thought of my mice, while making
a desultory meal standing, and went to look at them; they were gone.
Wondering if Temperance had thrown the creatures away, I remembered
that I had been foolish enough to tell Veronica, and rushed back to
her. When she saw me, she raised a saucer to her face, pretending to
drink from it.

"Verry, where are the mice?"

"Are they gone?"

"Tell me."

"What will you do if I don't?"

"I know," and I flew upstairs, tore the poor butterfly from between
the leaves of the Bible, crushed it in my hand, and brought it down to
her. She did not cry when she saw it, but choked a little, and turned
away her head.

It was now dark, and hearing a bustle in the entry I looked out, and
saw several staid men slowly rubbing their feet on the door-mat; the
husbands had come to escort their wives home, and by nine o'clock they
all went. Veronica and I stayed by the door after they had gone.

"Look at Mrs. Dexter," she said; "I put the mice in her workbag."

I burst into a laugh, which she joined in presently.

"I am sorry about the butterfly, Verry." And I attempted to take her