her voice. "Of all the little pests in the world, they are certainly
the worst!"

"Yes, Aunt Patricia," he answered. "They've been a great pleasure to
the boys."

"_They!_" she gasped. "You don't mean to say that there are _two_!"
Then she saw Matches climbing up on Phil's shoulder, and words failed
her.

"Yes; their grandfather gave each of the boys one of his pets. He said
that they would be company for them on the way home, and would help
divert their thoughts from their great loss. They grieved so, poor
little lads."

That softened Miss Patricia again, and she said nothing more about our
being pests. But when she passed me she drew her skirts aside as if
she could not bear to so much as brush against me, and from that hour
it has been war to the knife between us.

Matches and I were given a little room up in the attic under the
eaves, but at first we were rarely there during the day. The boys
took us with them wherever they went. We had been there some time
before we were left alone long enough for me to do any exploring.

It was almost dark when that first chance came. I prowled around the
attic awhile. Then I climbed out of the window and swung down by the
vines that covered that side of the house, to the shutters of the room
below. It happened to be Miss Patricia's room. As I perched on the top
of the shutters, leaning over and craning my neck, I could see Miss