The Green Mouse | Page 9

mean," she said with heightened color, and
rose from her chair. "As there are no more green mice to peep out at me
from behind my easel," she added, "I can have no excuse from
abandoning art any longer. Can I?"
The trailing sweetness of the inquiry was scarcely a challenge, yet he
dared take it up.
"You asked me," he said, "whether you could do anything for me."
"Can I?" she exclaimed.
"Yes."
"I will--I am glad--tell me what to do?"

"Why, it's only this. I've got to go before an audience of two hundred
people and do things. I've had practice here by myself, but--but if you
don't mind I should like to try it before somebody--you. Do you mind?"
She stood there, slim, blue-eyed, reflecting; then innocently: "If I've
compromised myself the damage was done long ago, wasn't it? They're
going to take away my studio anyhow, so I might as well have as much
pleasure as I can."
And she sat down, gracefully, linking her white fingers over her knees.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]

IV
AN IDEAL IDOL
A Chapter Devoted to the Proposition that All Mankind Are Born of
Woman
He began by suddenly filling the air with canary birds; they flew and
chirped and fluttered about her head, until, bewildered, she shrank back,
almost frightened at the golden hurricane.
To reassure her he began doing incredible things with the big silver
hoops, forming chains and linked figures under her amazed eyes,
although each hoop seemed solid and without a break in its polished
circumference. Then, one by one, he tossed the rings up and they
vanished in mid-air before her very eyes.
"How did you do that?" she cried, enchanted.
He laughed and produced the big, white Persian cats, changed them
into kittens, then into birds and butterflies, and finally into a bowl full
of big, staring goldfish. Then he picked up a ladle, dipped out the fish,

carefully fried them over an electric lamp, dumped them from the
smoking frying pan back into the water, where they quietly swam off
again, goggling their eyes in astonishment.
"That," said the girl, excitedly, "is miraculous!"
"Isn't it?" he said, delighted as a boy at her praise. "What card will you
choose?"
And he handed her a pack.
"The ace of hearts, if you please."
"Draw it from the pack."
"Any card?" she inquired. "Oh! how on earth did you make me draw
the ace of hearts?"
"Hold it tightly," he warned her.
She clutched it in her pretty fingers.
"Are you sure you hold it?" he asked.
"Perfectly."
"Look!"
She looked and found that it was the queen of diamonds she held so
tightly; but, looking again to reassure herself, she was astonished to
find that the card was the jack of clubs. "Tear it up," he said. She tore it
into small pieces.
"Throw them into the air!"
She obeyed, and almost cried out to see them take fire in mid-air and
float away in ashy flakes.
Face flushed, eyes brilliant, she turned to him, hanging on his every

movement, every expression.
Before her rapt eyes the multicolored mice danced jigs on slack wires,
then were carefully rolled up into little balls of paper which
immediately began to swell until each was as big as a football. These
burst open, and out of each football of white paper came kittens, turtles,
snakes, chickens, ducks, and finally two white rabbits with silly pink
eyes that began gravely waltzing round and round the room.
"Please stand up and shake your skirts," he said.
She rose hastily and obeyed; a rain of silver coins fell, then gold, then
banknotes, littering the floor. Then precious stones began to drop about
her; she shook them from her hair, her collar, her neck; she clenched
her hands in nervous amazement, but inside each tight little fist she felt
something, and opening her fingers she fairly showered the floor with
diamonds.
"Can't you save one for me?" he asked. "I really need it." But when
again she looked for the glittering heap at her feet, it was gone; and,
search as she might, not one coin, not one gem remained.
Glancing up in dismay she found herself in a perfect storm of white
butterflies--no, they were red--no, green!
"Is there anything in this world you desire?" he asked her.
"A--a glass of water----"
She was already holding it in her hands, and she cried out in
amazement, spilling the brimming glass; but no water fell, only a rain
of little crimson flames.
"I can't--can't drink this--can I?" she faltered.
"With perfect safety," he smiled, and she tasted it.
"Taste it again," he said.

She tried it; it was lemonade.
"Again."
It was ginger ale.
"Once more."
She stared at the glass, frothing with ice-cream soda; there