158 The Real Charlotte, 



old claw outstretched for her acceptance, and plunged in- 

 continently down a ride in the direction of the voice. In 

 front of her stood a sombre ring of immense pine-trees, and 

 in their shadow stood Garry and James Canavan, apparently 

 in committee upon some small object that lay on the thick 

 mat of moss and pine-needles. 



" I heard the governor talking to you," said Garry with a 

 grin of intelligence, *' and I thought you'd sooner come and 

 look at the rat that's just come out of this hole. Stinking 

 Jemima's been in there for the last half hour after rabbits. 

 She's my ferret, you know, a regular ripper," he went on in 

 excited narration, "and I expect she's got the muzzle off 

 and is having a high old time. She's just bolted this 

 brute." 



The brute in question was a young rat that lay panting 

 on its side, unable to move, with blood streaming from its 

 face. 



" Oh ! the creature ! " exclaimed Francie with compas- 

 sionate disgust ; " what'll you do with it ? " 



" I'll take it home and try and tame it," replied Garry ; 

 " it's quite young enough. Isn't it, Canavan ? " 



James Canavan, funereal in his black coat and rusty tall 

 hat, was regarding the rat meditatively, and at the question 

 he picked up Garry's stick and balanced it in his hand. 



** Voracious animals that we hate, 

 Cats, rats, and bats deserve their fate," 



he said pompously, and immediately brought the stick 

 down on the rat's head with a determination that effectually 

 disposed of all plans for its future, educational or otherwise. 



Garry and Francie cried out together, but James Canavan 

 turned his back unregardingly upon them and his victim, 

 and stalked back to Sir Benjamin, whose imprecations, 

 since Francie's escape, had been pleasantly audible. 



" The old beast ! " said Garry, looking resentfully after 

 his late ally ; " you never know what he'll do next. I be- 

 lieve if mother hadn't been there last night, he'd have gone 

 on jumping on Kitty Gascogne till he killed her. By the 

 bye, Miss Fitzpatrick, Hawkins passed up the lake just 

 now, and he shouted out to me to say that he'd be at the 



