Carolyn Wells,
Patty's Social Season
“ The springs of the chair gave a tiny squeak, scarcely as loud as a mouse might make, yet sufficient to arouse Van Reypen from his reverie. He sprang up, and pushing aside the portière, switched on the light, to see Patty sitting on the low, tufted back of the chair, her hair streaming about her shoulders, and her face expressing the utmost fear and horror. “Well!” he observed, looking at her with a smile,—“well!” “Oh, Philip,” whispered Patty, in a quaking voice, “it’s a mouse! an awful mouse!” ”
