ld; the old Archambault woman who had attended the front door
threw open another on her left hand, and the next moment he found
himself in what must have been once the _salon_ of the family. The
furniture was of faded tapestry; a spinning-wheel, an armoire of dark
mahogany, miniatures, one very old and very ugly oil painting of some
mythological subject, cracked with age, the gilt frame thick with
fly-specks; a suit of Court clothes hung ostentatiously on a common
nail--these were the impressions he received as he sat waiting to hear
whether the Sieur would see him.

Suddenly he started. The woman had closed the door, the room had been
empty when he entered it and yet--there were three cats in front of his
chair! Where had they come from? The window was closed, how had they
got in? Watching, Ringfield saw what greatly astonished him, for
presently the cats walked towards the door and a miracle appeared to
happen! They not only walked towards it but through it, and he was
ignorant of the apparent cause of the miracle until observing the door
very closely he discovered a little door down at the bottom, a cat door
through which they were in the habit of calmly passing back and forth
at will. Another cat door appeared in the hall where he stood a minute
later before being shown out, for Mr. Clairville would not receive him,
and nothing more impressed him with the idea of being in a strange
house given over to strange people than the knowledge of a system of
little doors cut in the big ones for the use of a dozen cats.

Once more on the road, Ringfield experienced that sense of frustration
inseparable from first love. He had been so confident of seeing Miss
Clairville once again, and now, as he learned from the servant, it
might be Christmas before she would return, and despite his
resolutions, he knew he should be very lonely indeed, without any
congenial soul in the village, for a period of four months. He roused
himself, however, to think of the morrow's duties, particularly of the
music, and at tea that evening he found the person he wanted through
the kind offices of Father Rielle, who was a very liberal Catholic,
well acquainted with the whole countryside and who could ask, as he
said, in eloquent broken English, nothing better than co-operation in
good works with his young Methodist _confrere_. Poussette was present
at the evening meal, rather pale and subdued and pointing with the
pride of a true _chef_ to