MRS.

THE YOUNG

YOUNG FOLKS AT THE EDDY.

(Third Paper. Their way with their pets.)

RS. EDDY was especially happy that they lived in the country, so Constance, Will, Nan and the others could have all the pets they wished. But I think even she had a little too much of a good thing, when one day a cat, thin, miserable and dirty beyond description, appeared at her feet with two infant squirrels, instead of kittens.

She was doing some fine ironing that morning, and she had moved, with her coal-oil stove, from the hot house to the lawn, where, under the great blackwalnut-trees, not far from the dining-room windows, she had her table placed.

This proceeding made the day seem like a fête to the children, and Constance, carrying out her rocking-chair, mended her stockings with a grand air, while Will shelled peas to the tune of "Roy's Wife of Ardinvalloch," and the little ones pirouetted around with chickens and pigeons on their shoulders.

Of course the advent of the cat was hailed with a delight all the greater when it was evident she had actually adopted the squirrels.

Constance took her up gently, looked her over critically, and announced: "It certainly is the White Queen."

"The White Queen!" screamed the others, with instant recognition "And who is the White Queen, if you please?" said Mrs. Eddy.

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"Why, the cat, to be sure, who disappeared last winter, after we dressed her up to act in the Owl and the Pussy Cat.' Do you not remember, mother, you said any self-respecting cat would never be seen after such indignities? We always thought she heard you, and felt obliged to go. A cat, indeed!” Constance went on; "she is not a cat, she is a sensitive being."

"Sensitive being or not," declared Mrs. Eddy, "if she is to be harbored, one of you must agree to take care of her and her unnatural family."

"Unnatural!" they all burst out; "what could be more natural than that a cat brought up in your family should adopt orphans wherever found?" Well, which of you will stand for this cat and her children?"

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I remark in passing that it was a rule, never suspended at the Eddy, that some one child must be personally responsible for each pet animal on the place. There was not often even momentary hesitation, but it happened just then that Will had a new dog whose disposition in regard to cats was not satisfactory; Constance had a pair of tame owls, who would certainly eat the squirrels, while Nan had the dearest Shetland pony, whose hatred of cats was such that he would chase them and scare them to death.

“Oh! if the dearest, loveliest, best of mothers only would, just this once, be the White Queen's godmother!"

"No; the dearest, best and loveliest of mothers will have nothing whatever to do with the White Queen. In her opinion the White Queen had better return to her chosen forest, and bring up her family where they belong."

With this decisive assertion Mrs. Eddy stuck to her text, and Will was obliged to take the new-comers under his charge.

Now, you see, the pony must be taught to let the White Queen alone; the dog must be so transformed that he would set her welfare before his own; while the little owls and the squirrels must learn to live in peace together.

The fluffy little owls were the delight of Constance's life, and she had never been obliged to put them in a cage. On the contrary, they lived in the large airy woodshed, and were not often visible in the daytime. But after dark they would answer Constance's call, and allow her to carry them into a dusky corner, where they would solemnly blink their eyes while she learned her lessons.

The evening after Will's adoption of the still disreputable-looking White Queen, he brought her into the house to introduce her to the owls.

They were perched on a curtain pole. They were terribly frightened, and stuck up their feathers so that they looked twice as big as usual, while although she had been fed to repletion, the White Queen sprang the instant she caught sight of them, as if she would like to tear them limb from limb. Will held her firmly, but kept stroking her head caressingly, while Constance, standing on the sofa, took down her favorite owl and cuddled it in her bosom. Soon the other, as if jealous, flew down and nestled beside his mate.

Although the White Queen never turned her cruel, stealthy eyes from the terrified birds, she made no violent attempt to escape from Will; and when Nan brought in the squirrels, who were so young as to be practically helpless, she moved uneasily toward them as if conscious that they needed motherly protection.

The tact and patience shown by Constance and Will, as they held these alien creatures, was wonderful, and was at last rewarded; for the White Queen slipped quietly to the floor, nestled close to her babies, and calmly went to sleep.

The little owls gradually smoothed their feathers, allowed Nan to feed them, voluntarily left Constance, and settled on the top rail of the brass fire-screen.

The next morning, at the feeding time of the Eddy menagerie, the dog Sholto scared the poor White Queen out of her wits by his fierce looks and the savage way in which he thumped his tail on the floor when he saw the squirrels.

Will soothed the cat with low words and gentle strokes, while he sternly bade Sholto keep his distance. This was worse than a blow to Sholto, for he idolized Will, and never could bear to eat his breakfast without his approval. He would not touch it, but growled ominously, and went on thumping his tail. Will patiently fondled the cat and her children until he persuaded her to eat a little of the milk he had put midway between her and Sholto. As the latter continued obdurate, Will took his breakfast away, and, without a

word, turned to leave the room. This was too hard for the affectionate dog, and with a cry, he sprang forward and looked at his master beseechingly. Will understood him, and pointed to the saucer of milk the shivering White Queen had only half-finished. Sholto lapped it eagerly in comprehension of the situation, and never made himself disagreeable to cat or squirrels again. Indeed, as if anxious to assist in preserving the best understanding between all parties, he never ceased to watch the owls, if they were accidentally left with the squirrels, who for weeks were the most defenseless of the motley company. The way the Shetland was won over was very amusing. No one had given his perverseness much thought, for no one ever imagined the White Queen would be such a ninny as to want to live in the stable. But as Mrs. Eddy said, what could you expect of a cat who did not know squirrels from her own kittens? Live in the stable she would, and she set up her nursery in a corner of the tiny room the Shetland thought his special property.

The first day the White Queen set up housekeeping, he chased her out, while Sholto clumsily picked up one squirrel at a time and carried them after her.

But the next day there she was again, and Will took out his father and mother to see her complacence and the pony's disgust. For weeks he would not allow her to come near him, and kept up a continual quarrel with the squirrels, who, as they grew strong and nimble, were not in the least afraid of him.

One evening, as he was eating his supper, he was much startled by a sleek, bright-eyed mouse, who impudently nibbled at his corn. He stamped his little feet and shook his shaggy mane, and mousie scurried away, only to reappear a minute later. Pony gave a shrill, angry neigh, and the White Queen gave a wild leap and caught the thief in her cruel claws. She bore him triumphantly to her corner, and Master Shetland never again objected to her company.

In late autumn-it was summer when the White Queen appeared at the Eddy Will asked his father to come to the stable.

The Shetland, with his warm red blanket tied carefully about his little body, was looking lovingly at Sholto, who lay in the sun at his feet, while the White Queen was taking a nap on his back, and the sleepy owls, with their heads tucked under their wings, sat on the hook where the pony's harness hung. The squirrels, chattering and scolding, were scurrying backward and forward over the floor, dragging ears of corn, and wasting oats, but all, when they saw Will, hurried toward him, eager for word and caress.

"How did you do it, Will?" asked his father; "how did you make them so happy with each other, and with you?"

"Oh! I didn't do anything;" said Will," you see Constance and I are so friendly with them, they can't help being friendly with each other."

Annie Sawyer Downs.

GUERT TEN EYCK.

(Part Second.)