"I don't know--exactly."
For an instant she failed to understand. Then into her face came a
gentler expression. "Yes, you do! You are sorry because you think you
have troubled me; but it is I who beg your pardon. I am ashamed of
myself. You have given me a lesson in politeness."
And she smiled her sweetest smile. Whereupon the sunshine returned
to his own face. Encouraged by this change of atmosphere, he resumed
with new courage his rôle of host. For a moment he studied her face,
uncertain as to what was expected of him. Folding his hands above his
head, he glanced about the room, searching for inspiration. It came.
His face brightened. The slumbrous eyes sparkled. Coming a step nearer,
he demanded with suppressed enthusiasm:
"Do you care for snakes or mice?"
The visitor regarded him with a kind of terror.
She frowned, turned her face to one side and shook her head. The host
misunderstood the movement.
"But it's no trouble. I can get them both. They are right here in the
woodshed." And he started toward the door.
"Come back," she said, "I don't care to see either of them."
"But the snake is dead and the mouse won't bite. He knows me."