dusk, a sharp business transaction at once went into effect between the young lady within and some one without; wherof nothing at first transpired.  Mr. Kingsland knew only that on one side the tones might rival a mountain brook for their soft impetuosity.  There was ‘a show of hands’ too, and then the coach jolted on and Mr. Falkirk woke up; but not till the tired horses had gone down one pitch and up another, did he hear a faint ‘mew’ which raised its voice at his elbow.

‘What have you got there?’ he said hastily.

‘A pair of whiskers, sir.’

‘Where did you get that thing?’ was the next demand, made with considerable disgust.

‘Really, sir—­whiskers not being contraband—­’

Mr. Falkirk was a patient man; at least Wych Hazel generally found him so; and at present he merely fell back into his corner, without making his thoughts any further apparent than the gesture made them.  He offered no remark, not even when the dismayed condition of the whiskers aforesaid suggested sundry earnest and energetic efforts at escape, with demonstrations that called up Miss Hazel from the quietude of her corner to be earnest and active in her turn.  Frightened, not sure of the kind attentions of the little hands that kept such firm hold,—­ the kitten struggled and growled, and at last sent forth its feelings in a series of mews, sostenuto and alto to an alarming degree.  Mr. Kingsland smiled—­then coughed,—­and Wych Hazel’s laugh broke forth in a low but very defined ‘Ha! ha!’

‘Mr. Falkirk,’ she said, ’please open your heart and give me a biscuit.’

‘Mr. Falkirk,’ cried a cheerful voice, rather low, from the other side of the road, ‘what have you got on board?’

If Mr. Falkirk’s inward reply had been spoken aloud and in a past age, it might have cost poor Miss Hazel her life; as it was, he only said, ‘Can you cut a broom-stick, Rollo?’ The answer perhaps went into action, for the young man disappeared.

Turning its wee head from side to side, as it munched the biscuit, soothed by the soft touch of soft hands, the kitten so far forgot herself as to break now and then into a loud irregular purr; but her little mistress was absolutely silent and still, though the light fingers never ceased their caressing, until puss had finished the biscuit and purred herself to sleep.  By this time the coach jogged along in absolute darkness, except for what help the stars gave.  The plashing of a stream over its rough bed far down below, gave token sometimes that the wheels of the coach were near an abyss; the flutter of leaves told that the forest was all around them always.  The irregular traveller had re-entered the coach and sat among his shawls as still as the rest of the party; who perhaps were all slumbering as well as the kitten.  It appeared so; for when that small individual started to consciousness and consequent alarm again, and was making an excursion among the feet of the gentlemen on the coach floor,