The Choir Invisible

When she reached her room, Amy was standing beside the bed, engaged in

lifting out of the bundle the finery now so redolent of the ball.

"Aunt Jessica," she remarked carelessly, without looking round, "I forgot to

tell you that John Gray had a fight with a panther in his schoolroom this

morning," and she gave several gossamer-like touches to the white lace

tucker.

Mrs. Falconer had seated herself in a chair to rest. She had taken off her

bonnet, and her fingers were unconsciously busy with the lustrous edges of

her heavy hair. At Amy's words her hands fell to her lap. But she had long

ago learned the value of silence and self-control when she was most deeply

moved: Amy had already surprised her once that morning.

"The panther bit him in the shoulder close to the neck," continued Amy,

folding the tucker away and lifting out the blue silk coat.

"They were on the floor of the school-house in the last struggle when Erskine got there.

He had gone for Phoebe Lovejoy's cows, because it was raining and she

couldn't go herself; and he heard John as he was passing. He said his voice

sounded like the bellow of a dying bull."

"Is he much hurt? Where is he? Did you go to see him? ho dressed his wound?

Who is with him?"

"They carried him home," said Amy, turning round to the light and pressing

the beautiful silk coat in against her figure with little kicks at the

skirt. "No; I didn't go; Joseph came round and told me. He didn't think the

wound was very dangerous--necessarily. One of his hands was terribly

clawed."

"A panther? In town? In his schoolroom?"-"You know Erskine keeps a pet panther. I heard him tell Mrs. Poythress it

was a female," said Amy with an apologetic icy, knowing little laugh. "And

he said this one had been prowling about in the edge of the canebrakes for

several days. He had been trying to get a shot at it. He says it was nearly

starved: that was why it wanted to eat John whole before breakfast."

Amy turned back to the bed and shook out delicately the white muslin

dress--the dress that John had hung on the wall of his cabin--that had wound

itself around his figure so clingingly.

There was silence in the room. Amy had now reached the silk stockings; and

taking up one, she blew down into it and quickly peeped over the side, to

see whether it would fill out to life-size--with a mischievous wink.