Day before yesterday he had been so easily _grand seigneur_, so tolerantly charmed: to-day he wished he had not come. Why didn’t she speak? If only they were out of doors; in a room with pictures and cushions a man is at such a disadvantage. “If you’ll come over to my house, I’ll show you the biggest rat-hole you ever saw—it’s in the stable!” he said desperately. It was a good deal to do for a girl, but she was worth it. “Oh! Oh!” she breathed, and her eyes widened. “Maybe you can see the rat—he doesn’t often come out, though,” he added honestly. She shuddered and twisted her fingers violently. “No! No!” she whispered revoltedly. “I—I hate ratths! I dreamed about one! I had to have the gath lit! Oh, no!” Frightened at this long speech, she looked obstinately in her lap, though he tried persistently to catch her eye and smile. Their mothers’ voices rose and fell; they chattered meaninglessly. Ladies talked and talked: they never did anything to speak of, they only talked. She would not look at him: at his wits’ ends, he played his highest card. If she were of mortal flesh and blood, this would interest her. “Look here! Do you know what Boston bull pups are? Do you?” She nodded vigorously. “Well, you know their tails?” She nodded uncertainly. “You know they’re just little stumps?” “Oh, yeth!” she beamed at him. “My Uncle Harry’th got a bulldog. Hith name ith Eli. He liketh me.” “Well, see here! Do you know how they make their tails short? _A man bites ’em off!_ A fellow told me——” “Oh! Oh! Oh!” She shuddered off the hassock, and rushed to her mother, gasping with horror. “He thayth—he thayth—” words failed her. Broken sobs of “Eli! Oh, Eli!” filled the parlor. He was dazed, terrified. What had happened? What had he done? He was shuffled disgracefully from the room; apologies rose above her sobbing; the door closed behind Dicky and his mother. Waves of rebuke rolled over his troubled spirit. “Of all dreadful things to say to a poor, nervous little girl! I am too mortified. Richard, how do you learn such dreadful, dreadful things? It’s not true.” “But, mamma, it _is_! It truly is. When they are little a man bites them off. Peter told me so. He puts his mouth right down——” “Richard! Not another word! You are disgusting—perfectly disgusting. You trouble me very much.”