y" eyes in real,
or simulated slumber. Cinderella purred about her mistress until she
seated herself again to work upon her seventh chemise, then jumped up
into her lap and composed herself to slumber.

After that, I had no fear that the well-fed, pampered creatures would
molest my pets. Everybody sympathized in my good fortune. The weather
was intensely warm, and Uncle Ike's own august hands rigged up a shelf
against the garden fence, making what I called a "situation" for my
cottage. Not even Argus could get at them there, had he been evilly
disposed, and he had excellent principles for a puppy. Darby and Joan
nibbled lettuce and cabbage from my fingers inside of three days, and if
they were in the bedroom when I approached their dwelling, would bustle
out to see if it were milk, or greens, or, maybe, clover blossoms that I
had for them.

The happy, happy days went by, and I announced to my father one evening
as we sat at supper that I really "began to believe the curse was lifted
from my pets."

"The curse! Mary Hobson Burwell! what a word!" cried my mother.

My father held up his hand.

"One moment, if you please, mother! Explain yourself, Molly!"

"I mean," answered I, bravely, "that it used to seem as if a wicked
fairy had cursed a curse upon anything I took a fancy to. Like the girl
in the song, and her tree and flower, and dear gazelle, you know. But
Darby and Joan make me hope--"

The words were blasted upon my tongue by a terrible scream.

[Illustration]

Chapter X

Circumstantial Evidence

[Illustration]

The garden gate was close to the dining-room windows, and the windows
were not high above the ground. I rushed for the nearest. The moon was
bright, and I was in time to see three cats jump down from the shelf on
which the cottage was "situated," and dart away in as many different
directions. One ran close along the wall of the house, and I recognized
Preciosa. Hurling myself over the window-sill, I was the first of our
startled party to reach the scene of the tragedy.

The attack had been made from the three exposed sides of the cottage,
the cats thrusting their claws between the bars and dragging my
darlings up against these.

My father opened the cottage door and took out the mangled, palpitating
bodies.

"Oh, father!" I shrieked. "Are they killed?"

"Yes, my daughter."

Then I went crazy. So raging and raving crazy that when I came partially
to my senses, I did not recolle