He liked to tell the story of that day and night when his friends were recounting adventures by sea and land; but he never said much about the hours on the ledge, always owned that Chris shot the beast, and usually ended by sagely advising his hearers to let their mothers know, when they went off on a lark of that kind. Those who knew and loved him best observed that he was fonder than ever of nibbling checkerberry leaves, that he didn't mind being laughed at for liking to wear a bit of pine in his buttonhole, and that the skin of the catamount so hardly won lay before his study table till the moths ate it up. [Illustration] THE COOKING CLASS A young girl in a little cap and a big apron sat poring over a cook-book, with a face full of the deepest anxiety. She had the kitchen to herself, for mamma was out for the day, cook was off duty, and Edith could mess to her heart's content. She belonged to a cooking-class, the members of which were to have a lunch at two P. M. with the girl next door; and now the all absorbing question was, what to make. Turning the pages of the well-used book, she talked to herself as the various receipts met her eye. "Lobster-salad and chicken-croquettes I've had, and neither were very good. Now I want to distinguish myself by something very nice. I'd try a meat-porcupine or a mutton-duck if there was time; but they are fussy, and ought to be rehearsed before given to the class. Bavarian cream needs berries and whipped cream, and I _won't_ tire my arms beating eggs. Apricots _a la_ Neige is an easy thing and wholesome, but the girls won't like it, I know, as well as some rich thing that will make them ill, as Carrie's plum-pudding did. A little meat dish is best for lunch. I'd try sweetbreads and bacon, if I didn't hate to burn my face and scent my clothes, frying. Birds are elegant; let me see if I can do larded grouse. No, I don't like to touch that cold, fat stuff. How mortified Ella was, when she had birds on toast and forgot to draw them. I shouldn't make such a blunder as that, I do hope. Potted pigeons--the very thing! Had that in our last lesson, but the girls are all crazy about puff-paste, so they won't try pigeons. Why didn't I think of it at once?--for we've got them in the house, and don't want them to-day, mamma being called away. All ready too; so nice! I do detest to pick and clean birds. 'Simmer from one to three hours.' Plenty of time. I'll do it! I'll do it! La, la, la!" And away skipped Edith in high spirits, for she did not love to cook, yet wished to stand well with the class, some members of which were very ambitious, and now and then succeeded with an elaborate dish, more by good luck than skill.