an oppressed air, stretching out his leg to warm it. 66 "I assure you, dame, I am almost worn out. Miss Sleekcoat's very kind, and I have plenty of the best of food, and a handsome suit of mourning, as you see, or I don't think I could stand the work. But, by-the-bye, you mustn't call me Smut now; I've had a new name given me. Miss Sleekcoat calls me Jet!" "How some folks do grow fine on nothing!" muttered the cricket. "Save the mark! Why, that old mouse was the biggest thief that ever lived in a kitchen! Now, I do help myself and my children to food where I find it, because I think it's only fair; but she used to hoard and scrape every morsel she could lay paw on, and all for the sake of getting rich!" "If you won't tell, Dame Chirrup," said the blackbeetle, "I'll let you into a secret; but be sure and be careful, as it might cost me my place!" The curiosity of the cricket easily impelled her to promise faithfully not to reveal it; and then the little page divulged the fact, that Miss Sleekcoat had a new wooer. A grand one; who came at night, "secret-like," all muffled up in a cloak, but who had a most tremendous voice and fiery eyes! And "He's a lord in disguise, at least," asserted the page; "he is so grand; and O my! what a fuss there is every evening just at the time of his visit. Such a dusting and sweeping, and a setting-out of all the best in the house! Miss Sleekcoat twiddles her whiskers for at least two hours before; and we are all called in to help brush her fur and trim her tail—I mean her train." The cricket, with open mouth and ears, eagerly received this superb piece of gossip, and, directly after the blackbeetle's departure, confided it, under solemn promise of secrecy, to eight-and-twenty of her intimate friends. So that the cook remarked that the crickets chirped as if they were mad that night; and no wonder! In the course of two evenings, every rat, mouse, cricket, beetle, or fly on the establishment, knew the news. Miss Sleekcoat's wedding-dress was chosen and described, her future residence settled, and even the bridal party selected, without her having heard a word on the subject. The main fact was, however, true, and the mysterious stranger had indeed made a great impression on the foolish mind of the vain little mouse. His magnificent eyes, fine voice, and, above all, the mystery which still shrouded him, were an undefinable charm to her. Heedless of her mother's oft-repeated cautions, and blind to the dangers of strange acquaintance, she permitted the visits of the unknown wooer, and at last consented to become lawfully his, with all her fortune of cheese and tallow. "Fairest of satin-skinned mice!" chanted the imposing stranger; "fattest and sleekest of the race of candle-nibblers! What honours await you! My palace is on the summit of a lofty tower, and my summer residence, covered with the greenest of ivy, is in a mighty tree." "How pleasant," simpered the foolish mouse, "to be the object of so much devotion. How delighted would my poor mother have been to see |