Yet he was pleased, too, for Mouser's attempt was testimony to the bird's merit.

"She thought it was real," he said, proudly.
"But how did you come to have your clothes----" began Winona sweetly once more, and again the twin was saved from shuffling answers.
The dog, Frank, sniffing up timidly at Mouser on the porch rail, displeased her.

From her perch she leaned down to curse him hissingly, with arched back and swollen tail, a potent forearm with drawn claws curving forward in menace.
"You will, will you ?" demanded Wilbur again, freeing his legs from the leash in which the dismayed dog had entwined them.
Frank now fell on his back with limp paws in air and simpered girlishly up at his envenomed critic on the railing.
"We got to keep that old cat out the way.

He eats 'em up--that's all he does, eats 'em! It's a good thing I was here to make him mind me." "But how did you come to have your clothes----" resumed Winona.
This time it was Dave Cowan who thwarted her with a blithe hail from the gate.

Winona gave it up.