But as soon as I mentioned the snakes, this perverse female backed across the room, her eyes closed, and both ears stopped with the tips of her forefingers, as if she thought my pets might utter some fearful screech. "Oh, _snakth_! Take 'em away! I don't want to thee 'em! I hate 'em. What do you have such _nathty_ petth for? Why don't you have nice ones?" This was insulting. I was far fonder of my pets than of this fussy little person. Moreover, I was doing my best to amuse her. "I do have nice ones," I rejoined indignantly, "an' I've got a dog, an' a white rabbit, an' two guinea pigs out in the barn. Do you like any of those?" "Not very much." She was hopeless,--simply hopeless. Under the circumstances it seemed hardly worth while to show her my June bugs,--although I had seven or eight which I had caught the night before. They were of the superior golden-yellow variety, too,--not the common brown ones. "Haven't you any pets?" I asked. "Yeth; I've got a kitten." A kitten! I might have known as much. Ordinarily I would have refrained from any comment on kittens, but now, "Kittens are no good," I announced. "They are _too_; they're lovely." "No, they ain't, either,--they grow up into cats." "Catth are nice." "They catch birds, and torture 'em," I remarked. The little girl began to whimper. I couldn't stand blubbering, at any rate. I must do something to stop that. What would appeal to her? There was the engine which would puff out steam when you lighted the lamp under its boiler. Instinctively I knew she would not care for that. There was my bag of marbles,--including two "alleys," one of which had some beautiful substance that looked like checkerberry candy inside it. I brought the marbles forward; she remained passive. My railroad punch (which had once belonged to a real conductor on a train)--she might look at that. Nay, more, she might punch fascinating little holes in a piece of paper with it. In my determination to be hospitable I would leave no stone unturned. But she laid the punch down, and wandered listlessly toward the door, her thumb once more in her mouth. There was nothing for it but to play my highest trump; she should see my white mice! They were prosperous and interesting, and there were five new ones since last week. "Come here," I said, and I took her to their box. We looked down into their home, and as we did so, an elder mouse poked his head above the straw, and sniffed the air curiously, his little eyes twinkling, and his whiskers quivering with excitement. Miss Alice uttered a loud squeal, and dashed out of the room. I could hear her all along the passage:-- "Oh, mamma, mamma,--a _mouth_! a _mouth_!" Well, I gave it up. I had made every effort,--there was no pleasing the creature. My conscience was clear at all events,--and that was the principal thing. CHAPTER XX WHILE THE EVIL DAYS COME NOT