A FAERIE ROMANCE. 85
" But should not that make you treat her belief with something of respect, though you cannot share in it yourself?"
" Yes, that is all very well in theory; but when you come to live every day in the midst of absurdity, it is far less easy to behave respectfully to it. Why, my wife actually believes the story of the c White Cat.' You know it, I dare say."
" I read all these tales when a child, and know that one especially well."
" But, father," interposed the little girl in the chimney-corner, " you know quite well that mother is descended from that very princess who was changed by the wicked fairy into a white cat. Mother has told me so a many times, and you ought to believe everything she says."
" I can easily believe that," rejoined the farmer, with another fit of laughter; " for, the other night, a mouse came gnawing and scratching beneath the floor, and would not let us go to sleep. Your mother sprang out of bed, and going as near it as she could, mewed so infernally like a great cat, that the noise ceased instantly. I believe the poor mouse died of the fright, for we have never heard it again. Ha! ha! ha!"