ded what to do next. Ten feet from the gate, he
stumbled upon a cat. At once a beautiful thought came to him. His own
cat-pussy had gone away, tired of abuse and starvation irregularly
combined with affection in the form of embraces and sugar, and Elsmere's
heart had grieved for her. Here was another, and he could find out by
actual experiment whether the velvet birds in the library would deceive
her. Clutching the spitting, clawing creature to his bosom, he trotted
off to the library.

The door, of course, was locked. At first this fact discouraged Elsmere.
Then he suddenly remembered that he alone possessed means of entrance.
Putting the cat down on the pavement and stepping firmly on her tail to
retain her, he fitted the key and triumphantly turned it in the lock.

Once inside, he carried kitty to the closet where the birds at present
hung, but his experiment was unsatisfactory, for she dug into his cheek
with a fury which rendered it necessary to abandon the attempt. When the
outraged animal had fled down the street, Elsmere looked about for fresh
interests. He was in a mood to recognize opportunities, and the
unprotected condition of Algernon's desk was suggestive. Never was a
librarian more hostile to little prying fingers than A. Swinburne of the
Winsted City Library. Elsmere felt a certain constraint, even alone with
opportunity.

The door opened and a very small person came in and walked over to the
desk.

"What you want?" asked Elsmere gravely.

"Want a book."

"All right." Elsmere walked to the shelves, took down a large volume of
Sheridan's Memoirs, and handed it to the child. Plainly much impressed
by the size of her booty, she wrapped her arms about it and walked out,
with admiring glances at Elsmere over her shoulder. Elsmere was pleased.
That was easy. He climbed into Algernon's chair. There were plenty of
things to amuse one. Rubber stamps hold infinite possibilities of
entertainment. So do colored cards arranged in trays. Elsmere shifted
them all about, and stamped the date on everything in sight.

Then came more Public, Mrs. Kittredge's maid this time, returning a book
and not wishing more. In fact, she laid down the book and departed with
such would-be inconspicuous swiftness that if Elsmere had been more
experienced, he would have known at once that the book was overdue.

Then there was a lull. Even forbidden pleasure palls in time, if no one
comes to remonstrate, and Elsmere was beginning