mice. They were not the easiest thing in the world to get,
requiring considerable seeking and talking. He did not venture to
tell why he wanted mice; and he overheard the housekeeper grumble:
"Most extraordinary boys, those Americans! Do you expect he wants
to _cat_ them?"

By this time Nora was ready; he had hardly replaced the snake in
the box before he heard her knock at the door. It was a charming
day and drive, yet I fear he saw little of the scenery. Alas, that
it must be confessed, a wicked thought had crept into his brain. He
coveted Lady Margaret's snake. He coveted it so ardently that he
began to imagine how easy it would be for him to keep it. There was
a man in London who sold snakes. Edmund had been up buying some
snakes from him which the man was to keep until he should want
them. What more easy than to send Marcus Aurelius to this saurian
boarding-house? Ah, what an ugly temptation for Edmund who had been
called a good boy from his cradle. He would have no more of it. But
it came back again and finally, when he reached the inn, he had
almost decided to keep the snake. "Anyhow I'll take it to Tomlin's"
(Tomlin was the snake man), he said to himself; "there's no hurry."
Yet in his secret soul he knew that once taken to Tomlin's, Marcus
Aurelius would never return to Lady Margaret. Thus thinking, he
went toward the box. The snake was gone! Yes, gone, vanished
absolutely, leaving no trace either in the box or in the room.
Vainly and long Edmund searched; either the cover had not fitted
exactly, or Marcus, the intelligent Marcus, had managed to remove
it; in either case he had evidently set off anew on his travels.
Edmund began to feel he had been a wicked boy. He stood in the
centre of the room, trying to collect his wits. Oscar's room
adjoined his; he could hear Oscar moving about, whistling out of