soul of the woman the scream of terror.

The drawing-room opened upon the terrace, and, seated at the
piano,
Jackson had been playing for those in the room to dance. The
windows to the terrace were open. The terrace itself was flooded
with moonlight. Seeking the fresh air, one of the dancers stepped
from the drawing-room to the flags outside. She had then raised
the
cry of terror and fallen in a faint. What she had seen, Herrick a
moment later also saw. On the terrace in the moon-light, Bruno
and
Clara, on their hind legs, were solemnly waltzing. Neither the
scream nor the cessation of the music disturbed them.
Contentedly,
proudly, they continued to revolve in hops and leaps. From their
happy expression, it was evident they not only were enjoying
themselves, but that they felt they were greatly affording
immeasurable delight to others. Sick at heart, furious, bitterly
hurt, with roars of mocking laughter in his ears, Herrick ran
toward the stables for help. At the farther end of the terrace
the
butler had placed a tray of liqueurs, whiskeys, and soda bottles.
His back had been turned for only a few moments, but the time had
sufficed.

Lolling with his legs out, stretched in a wicker chair, Herrick
beheld the form of Ikey. Between his uplifted paws he held aloof
the base of a decanter; between his teeth, and well jammed down
his