“How?” asked the three, with one voice. “Get back into the chest,” she said. “I will then close the lid, so they will be unable to find you.” They looked around the room in a dazed and irresolute way, but she exclaimed: “You must be quick! They will soon be here to arrest you.” Then Lugui sprang into the chest and lay flat upon the bottom. Beni tumbled in next and packed himself in the back side. Victor followed after pausing to kiss her hand to the girl in a graceful manner. Then Martha ran up to press down the lid, but could not make it catch. “You must squeeze down,” she said to them. Lugui groaned. “I am doing my best, miss,” said Victor, who was nearest the top; “but although we fitted in very nicely before, the chest now seems rather small for us.” “’Tis so!” came the muffled voice of the fat man from the bottom. “I know what takes up the room,” said Beni. “What?” inquired Victor, anxiously. “The pie,” returned Beni. “’Tis so!” came from the bottom, in faint accents. Then Martha sat upon the lid and pressed it down with all her weight. To her great delight the lock caught, and, springing down, she exerted all her strength and turned the key. This story should teach us not to interfere in matters that do not concern us. For had Martha refrained from opening Uncle Walter’s mysterious chest she would not have been obliged to carry downstairs all the plunder the robbers had brought into the attic. THE GLASS DOG An accomplished wizard once lived on the top floor of a tenement house and passed his time in thoughtful study and studious thought. What he didn’t know about wizardry was hardly worth knowing, for he possessed all the books and recipes of all the wizards who had lived before him; and, moreover, he had invented several wizardments himself. This admirable person would have been completely happy but for the numerous interruptions to his studies caused by folk who came to consult him about their troubles (in which he was not interested), and by the loud knocks of the iceman, the milkman, the baker’s boy, the laundryman and the peanut woman. He never dealt with any of these people; but they rapped at his door every day to see him about this or that or to try to sell him their wares. Just when he was most deeply interested in his books or engaged in watching the bubbling of a cauldron there would come a knock at his door. And after sending the intruder away he always found he had lost his train of thought or ruined his compound. At length these interruptions aroused his anger, and he decided he must have a dog to keep people away from his door. He didn’t know where to find a dog, but in the next room lived a poor glass-blower with whom he had a slight acquaintance; so he went into the man’s apartment and asked: “Where can I find a dog?” “What sort of a dog?” inquired the glass-blower.