They sit in the big old chairs and tell stories. Dorothy likes to hear about the wolves. There are wolves where Blanche lives. "Yes, one day when I was a very, _very_ little girl," said Blanche, "a horrid big wolf came up to the window and looked in. I was sitting in mamma's lap, and he put his paws on the window and just looked at us horrid! "And then another time, mamma, you know, was going out to meet papa, and she saw a big wolf on the ground, and she thought it was dead, and she was going right up, and it wasn't dead a bit. It just got up and runned off to the woods, and mamma was awful scared and runned away too." When Blanche tells the wolf stories they play "scared." It is fun to play "scared." They shriek and run and hide. One rainy day they had been playing Mother Hubbard. "Now," said Blanche, "I will tell a b-eautiful wolf story. It will make us awful scared. See if it doesn't!" So she climbed up into a big chair and began. But right in the middle of the story they heard something go scratch, scratch, very loudly. "Oh, what is that, Dotty?" whispered Blanche, clutching Dorothy's arm. Scratch, scratch, it went again, and then there was a great rattling. "Oh, it's a wolf!" cried Dotty; and down the attic stairs they flew pell-mell; through the kitchen chamber and the great unfinished chamber, and down the back stairs; through the kitchen and the dining-room, and burst into grandma's room all out of breath. "What _is_ the matter, children?" asked grandma. "Oh, there's a wolf in the attic," they both cried out. "Nonsense! we don't have wolves in Massachusetts," said grandma. "Well," said Dorothy, "something scratched dreadfully." So grandma went up to the attic to see about it. "Where was the noise?" she asked. [Illustration: BRIGHT-EYES AT HOME.] They pointed to the dark place behind the big chimneys. Grandma went up and opened a door and out walked--a wolf! no; Towser, the old cat! Blanche and Dorothy sometimes have another visitor in the attic. It is a big rat. He lives in the barn. He has a road underground to the house cellar. Then he comes up to the attic through the wall. The cousins never know when to expect him. He comes in without knocking. The first thing they know there he is looking at them with bright eyes. They have named him Bright-eyes. They feed him with cake and cheese. He is very tame. Grandma says she never heard of such a thing as feeding a rat. She says Bright-eyes eats her hens' eggs. He steals them out of the nests. LITTLE GIRL GRACIE. BEDTIME. So sleepy and demure is my wee Gracie, So long and sober grows the little facie, So silent are the red, red lips so sweet, So quiet are the little hands and feet, I know, yes, well I know My Gracie wants to go Into the soft, white nest where every night My birdie folds her wings till morning light.