transpired. Mr. Kingsland knew only that on one side the tones
might rival a mountain brook for their soft impetuosity. There
was 'a show of hands' too, and then the coach jolted on and
Mr. Falkirk woke up; but not till the tired horses had gone
down one pitch and up another, did he hear a faint 'mew' which
raised its voice at his elbow.

'What have you got there?' he said hastily.

'A pair of whiskers, sir.'

'Where did you get that thing?' was the next demand, made with
considerable disgust.

'Really, sir--whiskers not being contraband--'

Mr. Falkirk was a patient man; at least Wych Hazel generally
found him so; and at present he merely fell back into his
corner, without making his thoughts any further apparent than
the gesture made them. He offered no remark, not even when the
dismayed condition of the whiskers aforesaid suggested sundry
earnest and energetic efforts at escape, with demonstrations
that called up Miss Hazel from the quietude of her corner to
be earnest and active in her turn. Frightened, not sure of the
kind attentions of the little hands that kept such firm hold,--
the kitten struggled and growled, and at last sent forth its
feelings in a series of mews, sostenuto and alto to an
alarming degree. Mr. Kingsland smiled--then coughed,--and Wych
Hazel's laugh broke forth in a low but very defined 'Ha! ha!'