greyhound; he only looked at the Audience.

"I am not quite sure," she coughed. "If, now, you were under a glass
case."

"I am under a glass case," spoke up the Cat-made-of-worsted. "Marry me.
I am fifty years old. Marry me, and live under a glass case."

"Shocking!" said she. "How can you? Fifty years old, too! That would
indeed be a match!"

"Marry!" muttered the bronze Monk-reading-a-book. "A match! I am full of
matches, but I don't marry. Folly!"

"You stand up very straight, neighbor," said the Cat-made-of-worsted.

"I never bend," said the bronze Monk-reading-a-book. "Life is earnest. I
read a book by candle. I am never idle."

The Cat-made-of-worsted grinned to himself.

"You've got a hinge in your back," said he, "they open you in the
middle; your head flies back. How the blood must run down. And then
you're full of brimstone matches. He! he!" and the Cat-made-of-worsted
grinned out loud. The Boy-leaning-against-a-greyhound spoke again, and
sighed:

"I am of Parian, you know, and there is no one else here of Parian
except yourself."