dered or carried off a dozen times over without her
knowing it. Here's a nice duenna!'

And the indignant ladies shook, pinched, and shouted till the hapless
sleeper opened one eye, and wrathfully demanded what the matter was.

They told her with eloquent brevity, but instead of praising their
prowess, and thanking them with fervour, the ungrateful woman shut her
eye again, merely saying with drowsy irascibility,--

'You told me to go to sleep, and I went; next time fight it out among
yourselves, but don't wake me.'

'Throw the cat out of window and go to bed, Mat,' and Amanda uncocked
her pistol with the resignation of one who had learned not to expect
gratitude in this world.

'Touch a hair of that dear creature and I'll raise the house!' cried
Lavinia, roused at once.

Puss, who had viewed the fray sitting bolt upright on the table, now
settled the vexed question by skipping into Lavinia's arms, feeling with
the instinct of her race that her surest refuge was there. Mat retired
in silent disgust, and the Raven fell asleep soothed by the grateful
purring of her furry friend.

'Last night's experiences have given me a longing for adventures,' said
Mat, as they journeyed on next morning.

'I've had quite enough of that sort,' growled Lavinia.

'Let us read our papers, and wait for time to send us something in the
way of a lark,' and Amanda obscured herself in a grove of damp
newspapers.

Lavinia also took one and read bits aloud to Mat, who was mending her
gloves, bright yellow, four-buttoned, and very dirty.

'Translate as you go along--I do so hate that gabble,' begged Mat, who
would _not_ improve her mind.

So Lavinia gave her a free translation which convulsed Amanda behind her
paper. Coming to this passage, 'Plusieurs faits graves sont arrives,'
the reader rendered it, 'Several made graves have arrived,' adding,
'Dear me, what singular customs the French have, to be sure!' A little
farther on she read, 'Un portrait de feu Monsieur mon pere,' adding, 'A
fire portrait means a poker sketch, I suppose.'

Here a smothered giggle from Amanda caused the old lady to say 'Bless
you!' thinking the dear girl had sneezed.

'I must have some blue cotton to mend my dress with. Remind me to get
some at Moulins. By the way, how do you ask for it in French?' said Mat,
surveying a rent in her skirts.

'Oh, just go in and say, "Avez-vous le fils bleu?"' replied Lavinia,
with a superior air.

'A blue son! My preci