"'There's the alien act, to be sure,' said the magistrate, 'and perhaps
she's a French spy, in disguise.'

"'She spakes like a French spy, sure enough,' says Tom; 'and she was
missin', I remember, all last Spy-Wednesday.'

"'That's suspicious,' says the squire--'but conviction might be difficult;
and I have a fresh idea,' says Botherum.

"''Faith, it won't keep fresh long, this hot weather,' says Tom; 'so your
honour had betther make use of it at wanst.'

"'Right,' says Botherum,--'we'll make her subject to the game laws; we'll
hunt her,' says he.

"'Ow!--elegant!' says Tom;--'we'll have a brave run out of her.'

"'Meet me at the cross roads,' says the Squire, 'in the morning, and I'll
have the hounds ready.'

"'Well, off Tom went home; and he was racking his brain what excuse he
could make to the cat for not bringing the shoes; and at last he hit one
off, just as he saw her cantering up to him, half-a-mile before he got
home.

"'Where's the shoes, Tom?' says she.

"'I have not got them to-day, ma'am,' says he.