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"I hope you are enjoying yourself," she says, presently, hardly knowing what else to say. An old man, rugged but kindly-featured, rises on his entrance, and gazes at him expectantly. Mona, going up to him, rests her hand upon his arm, and, indicating Geoffrey by a gesture, says, in a low tone,— It is told also that the creator made people and animals at another place, and in another way. At the Porcupine Mountains he made other earthen images of people, and blew breath on the images, and they became people. They were men and women. After a time they asked him, "What are we to eat?" Then he took more earth and made many images in the form of buffalo, and when he had blown on them they stood up, and he made signs to them and they started to run. He said to the people, "There is your food.".
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So peace is restored, and presently, forsaking the pats of butter and the dairy, they wander forth into the open air, to catch the last mild breezes that belong to the dying day. Spice and Allspice are having a real good time opposite her bedroom fire, and, though perhaps inwardly astonished at their promotion from a distant kennel to the sleeping-apartment of their fair mistress, are far too well-bred to betray any vulgar exaltation at the fact. "I don't care about the county. It must think what it likes; and when it knows her it will sympathize with me. Oh! what a name! Scully! Was there ever so dreadful a name?" CHAPTER XXXII..
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