a humorous expression he has!" (And, in fact, the snake's tiny eyes
and wide mouth had something the look of an ironical grin about
them.) "Look! See him follow me about the table. He knows his
friend--don't you, my pet? Now, Marcus, I'll put up my arm for a
pole; make a monkey of yourself. Climb down, again. Now," tapping
the table, "be a dead snake. Very good. Now, show them what you
think of strangers." She motioned to Oscar; but he edged back
behind Nora, muttering, "No, they are nasty!"

Then Nora stepped forward. Instantly the snake coiled itself up,
hissing.

"Now, you," said Lady Margaret to Edmund.

"He won't be afraid of me," laughed Edmund, stretching forth his
hand; "come, pet!"

And to Lady Margaret's surprise the snake came, twining about the
boy's wrist as it was used to twine about hers. "Ah, you have my
gift, my dear!" she cried, delighted.

She put the snake back in the box and excused herself for a moment.
The page brought in the tea-tray. In a moment Lady Margaret
returned and made the tea, Mrs. Morris who had been looking on all
this while in a kind of trance of horror, recovered enough, at
these refreshing signs, to sink into a chair by a low table. She
clutched her sister's arm--Nora sat next to her--and murmured, "Was
there ever such an awful menagerie of a house?"

"Be quiet," whispered Nora.