When the Mr. Hyde mood came upon him--which it invariably did before
rain, or wind--he was a wild thing with changed eyes. The
transformation always came suddenly. He would spring fiercely from a
reverie with a savage snarl and bite at any restraining or caressing
hand. His fur seemed to grow darker and his eyes gleamed with a
diabolical light. There was really an unearthly beauty about him. If the
change happened in the twilight all the Ingleside folk felt a certain
terror of him. At such times he was a fearsome beast and only Rilla
defended him, asserting that he was "such a nice prowly cat." Certainly
he prowled.

Dr. Jekyll loved new milk; Mr. Hyde would not touch milk and growled
over his meat. Dr. Jekyll came down the stairs so silently that no one
could hear him. Mr. Hyde made his tread as heavy as a man's. Several
evenings, when Susan was alone in the house, he "scared her stiff," as
she declared, by doing this. He would sit in the middle of the kitchen
floor, with his terrible eyes fixed unwinkingly upon hers for an hour at
a time. This played havoc with her nerves, but poor Susan really held
him in too much awe to try to drive him out. Once she had dared to throw
a stick at him and he had promptly made a savage leap towards her. Susan
rushed out of doors and never attempted to meddle with Mr. Hyde again--
though she visited his misdeeds upon the innocent Dr. Jekyll, chasing
him ignominiously out of her domain whenever he dared to poke his nose
in and denying him certain savoury tidbits for which he yearned.

"'The many friends of Miss Faith Meredith, Gerald Meredith and James
Blythe,'" read Susan, rolling the names like sweet morsels under her
tongue, "'were very much pleased to welcome them home a few weeks ago
from Redmond College. James Blythe, who was graduated in Arts in 1913,