“Yiss. Her were in a shockin’ staate an’ condition. Her nigh made me sick, I tal ’ee. But I rowted un out, and I rowted un out, an’ I made all shipshape, though her smelt like to bilges.” “Her died mousin’, I reckon, poor thing,” said Lena. “Then her moused different to any made cat o’ God’s world, Lena. I up with the top-board, an’ she were lying on her back, an’ I turned un ovver with the brume-handle, an’ ’twas her back was all covered with the plaster from ’twixt the lathin’. Yiss, I tal ’ee. An’ under her head there lay, like, so’s to say, a little pillow o’ plaster druv up in front of her by raison of her slidin’ along on her back. No cat niver went mousin’ on her back, Lena. Some one had shoved her along right underneath, so far as they could shove un. Cats don’t make theyselves pillows for to die on. Shoved along, she were, when she was settin’ for to be cold, laike.” “Oh, yeou’m too clever to live, Fatty. Yeou go get wed an’ taught some sense,” said Lena, the affianced of Gumbly. “Larned a little ’fore iver some maidens was born. Sarved in the Queen’s Navy, I have, where yeou’m taught to use your eyes. Yeou go ’tend your own business, Lena.” “Do ’ee mean what you’m been tellin’ us?” said Oke. “Ask me no questions, I’ll give ’ee no lies. Bullet-hole clane thru from side to side, an’ tu heart-ribs broke like withies. I seed un when I turned un ovver. They’re clever, oh, they’m clever, but they’m not too clever for old Richards! ’Twas on the born tip o’ my tongue to tell, tu, but... he said us niver washed, he did. Let his dom boys call us ‘stinkers,’ he did. Sarve un dom well raight, I say!” Richards spat on a fresh boot and fell to his work, chuckling. THE IMPRESSIONISTS. They had dropped into the chaplain’s study for a Saturday night smoke---all four house-masters--and the three briars and the one cigar reeking in amity proved the Rev. John Gillett’s good generalship. Since the discovery of the cat, King had been too ready to see affront where none was meant, and the Reverend John, buffer-state and general confidant, had worked for a week to bring about a good understanding. He was fat, clean-shaven, except for a big mustache, of an imperturbable good temper, and, those who loved him least said, a guileful Jesuit. He smiled benignantly upon his handiwork--four sorely tried men talking without very much malice. “Now remember,” he said, when the conversation turned that way, “I impute nothing. But every time that any one has taken direct steps against Number Five study, the issue has been more or less humiliating to the taker.” “I can’t admit that. I pulverize the egregious Beetle daily for his soul’s good; and the others with him,” said King. “Well, take your own case, King, and go back a couple of years. Do you remember when Prout and you were on their track for--hutting and trespass, wasn’t it? Have you forgotten Colonel Dabney?” The others laughed. King did not care to be reminded of his career as a poacher.