At last Dorchen appeared at her own house-door, and tripped with a covered basket in her hand to the steps of Mr. Hummel's house. Spitehahn rose grimly, uttered a hoarse growl, and bristled his hair. "Call that frightful dog away, Mr. Hummel," cried Dorchen, snappishly. "I have a message for Miss Laura." Mr. Hummel assumed a benevolent expression of countenance and put his hand in his pocket. "The ladies are at work, my pretty child," he said, drawing out a heavy piece of money; "perhaps I can attend to it." The messenger was so startled at the unexpected politeness of the tyrant, that she made a mute courtesy and let the basket slip out of her hand. "It shall be attended to carefully," completed Mr. Hummel, with an engaging smile. He carried the basket into the house, and called Susan to take it to the ladies; after which he went into the hall again, and stroked the dog. It was not long before he heard the door of the sitting-room fly open and his name called loudly in the hall. He entered cautiously into the ladies' room, and found them in a dreadful state of disturbance. A beautiful basket was standing on the table, flowers were scattered about, and two little fur gloves, with large claws at the ends of the fingers, lay on the floor, like paws cut from a beast of prey. Laura was sitting before them sobbing. "Holloa!" cried Mr. Hummel, "is that one of the sponsorial pleasantries?" "Henry," cried his wife vehemently, "your child has received an insult; the Doctor has dared to send these to your daughter." "Ha!" cried Hummel; "cat's paws, and with claws! Why not? They will keep you warm in church; you can lay hold of the Doctor with them." "It must be a joke," cried Laura, with the hot tears flowing down her cheeks; "it is because I have sometimes teased him. I should never have believed him capable of such rudeness." "Do you know him so well?" inquired Mr. Hummel. "Well, if it is a joke, as you say, take it as a joke then; this emotion isn't necessary." "What is to be done now?" cried the mother; "can she still stand godmother with him after this insult?" "I should think so," replied Mr. Hummel, ironically; "this insult is a childish affair compared to others--compared to house-building, bell-ringing, and dog-poisoning. If you can stomach all that, why not cats' paws, too?" "Laura has hemmed and embroidered a handkerchief for him," exclaimed the mother; "and she had taken the greatest pains to finish it in time." "I will not send it to him," cried Laura. "So you hemmed and embroidered it yourself?" rejoined Hummel. "It is charming to live in friendship with one's neighbors. You are weak womenfolk, and you take the matter too seriously. These are courtesies which one cannot avoid, and to which no importance is attached. Do as you said you would. You must just send the thing over to him. You must not give him or any one else occasion to make remarks. Keep your contempt to yourself."