l I was ready to convict my father of injustice, and my mother of
rank favoritism for the alien. I sulked violently at breakfast, and as I
was not reproved, grew so stubborn and disrespectful over my lessons
that I was sent to my room to stay there until dinner was ready. The
term of banishment had still an hour to run, and I was leaning, listless
and wretched, out of the window when Mam' Chloe and Uncle Ike met in the
yard directly beneath, and part of the low dialogue reached me.

"Ef I could onct ketch that Precious-O-sir in some o' her tricks, you'd
see the fur fly,--mind!" said the butler.

"I suttinly is mighty sorry for po' Miss Molly," answered his wife.
"Looks-if hur heart is pretty nigh broke. It's right down pitiful to see
how much sto' she sot by them young old hyars. You mus' see ef you can't
get her some mo'."

I dropped my head on the window-sill and cried out the tears that
scalded my lids at the unexpected touch of sympathy. Then I fell to
thinking and with a purpose.

I went down to dinner with a tolerably composed countenance, a good
appetite, and a well-digested scheme of vengeance in my mind. Uncle Ike
was my only co-conspirator. I think I can see him now as he rolled back
against the garden fence to laugh as I unfolded my design.

"Ef you ain't the _beater_!" he chuckled, his pepper-and-salt poll
tilted to one shoulder, and eyeing me with undisguised admiration. "An'
you say nobody ain' put it into your hade?"

"I haven't said a word about it to anybody else, Uncle Ike. You'll help
me,--won't you?"

He doubled himself up like a dyspeptic jack-knife, the ingenuity of the
plot gaining upon his imagination.

I pressed my advantage:--

"And don't tell Mam' Chloe--please! She'll think it is cruel. But it
isn't. It's just only justice. And it can't bring _them_ back."

I clenched my fists, and my eyes filled.

"That's so, Miss Molly, that's so," sobering instantly. "It is mighty
hard on you--powerful hard."

"And, Uncle Ike,"--hurrying to get it out lest my voice should
fail,--"please don't let anybody give me any more old hares, or any
'live things to keep. They'll just die, or be murdered by other folks'
cats--or something. It's no use making myself happy for a little while
just to be sorry for ever and ever so long afterward."

With which epigram I ran away, afraid to try to utter another word.

That evening we were all on the front porch. The air was breezeless, the
moon as yellow as