y his collar the reluctant form of Reynard, who appeared as
guilty and subdued as if he had been born a slave not free. To make
matters more difficult, Meroude was surreptitiously helping herself to
a breakfast from the pail and thereby ruining its contents for other
uses.

"Oh! the plague of a life with such beasts! And him the worst o' they
all. The ver' next time my Pierre goes cross-lake, that fox goes or I
do! There's no room on the island for the two of us. No. Indeed no.
The harm comes of takin' in folks and beasties and friendin' them 'at
don't deserve it. What now, think you?"

Margot had run the faster, as soon as she descried poor Reynard's
abject state, and had taken him under her own protection, which
immediately restored him to his natural pride and noble bearing.

"I think nothing evil of my pet, believe that! See the beauty now!
That's the difference between harsh words and loving ones. If you'd
only treat the 'beasties' as well as you do me, Angelique dear, you'd
have less cause for scolding. What I think now is--speckled rooster.
Right?"

"Aye. Dead as dead; and the feathers still stickin' to the villain's
jaws. What's the life of such brutes to that o' good fowls? Pst!
Meroude! Scat! Well, if it's milk you will, milk you shall!" and,
turning angrily about, Snowfoot's mistress dashed the entire contents
of her pail over the annoying cat.

Margot laughed till the tears came. "Why, Angelique! only the other
day, in that quaint old 'Book of Beauty' uncle has, I read how a Queen
of Naples, and some noted Parisian beauties, used baths of milk for
their complexions; but poor Meroude's a hopeless case, I fear."

Angelique's countenance took on a grim expression. "Mistress Meroude's
got a day's job to clean herself, the greedy. It's not her nose'll go
in the pail another mornin'. No. No, indeed."

"And it was so full. Yet that's the same Snowfoot who was to give us
no more, because of the broken glass. Angelique, where's uncle?"

"How should I tell? Am I set to spy the master's ins and outs?"

"Funny Angelique! You're not set to do it, but you can usually tell
them. And where's Adrian? I've called and called, but nobody answers.
I can't guess where they all are. Even Pierre is out of sight, and
he's mostly to be found at the kitchen door when meal time comes."

"There, there, child. You can ask more questions than old Angelique
can answer. But the breakfast. That's a good thought. So be. Whisk in
a