THE MIGHTY DREAD. 227 
ambulations, or make any nasty, disconcerting, 
sudden noise, when our mouse, sitting on his 
hindlegs, began to sing—began to sing his 
funny little, quaint little, prattling, chortling 
song. 
The mouse felt bolder after that, and crept 
in. The man’s stride was so regular and 
soft that it hardly alarmed the mouse; was, 
in fact, almost soothing. It did not prevent 
the mouse from spotting instantly the saucer, 
half-full of the kitten’s milk, on the floor. 
Up and down, down and up, walked the 
man, and then suddenly started and peered 
forward, but he did not for an instant check 
his stride. He merely thought what a 
strangely dark shadow a chair-knob, or some- 
thing, threw upon the white saucer ; and then, 
as he turned, he saw that there was no chair- 
knob or anything to throw that shadow. 
Wherefore, he swerved a little from his 
course and bent forward, and slowly he smiled, 
for he saw, most certainly did he see. It was 
our friend the mouse, calmly—at least, to all 
appearances—drinking from the saucer; and 
when he had finished, quite finished, he perkily 
ran about in the milk, as if to bathe his little 
feet, holding his tail most quaintly the while 
high up, and with a kink in the middle, like 
a broken twig, to keep it from getting wet. 
