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The bear had smashed the mirror, torn up six or seven chairs, knocked over the lamp and demolished all the crockery in the pantry. Bartholomew gritted his teeth as he surveyed the ruin, and Mrs. Bartholomew said she wished to patience he had stayed in Colorado. However, they fixed things up as well as they could, and then Mrs. Bartholomew sent into Partridge's for Charley and the youngest girl.
Just then the voice of Bartholomew was heard calling from the top landing: "Ellen, for gracious sake get out of the house as quick as you can, and shut all the doors and window-shutters." Then Mrs. Bartholomew sent the boys into Partridge's, next door, and she closed the shutters, locked all the doors and went into the yard to await further developments.
She looked at him, and he laughed reassuringly. "Now I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll go over here to Partridge's and you pick out what you want. Then we'll look around for a room for you. You can leave the things there. Then we'll go to the show to-night." Carrie shook her head. "Well, you can go out to the flat then, that's all right. You don't need to stay in the room.
Now, will you take this bunch of nice wiggly worms to my little ones for their lunch? I shall be so very grateful." "Don't mention it," snapped the Tortoise, who was rather tired of hearing Mrs. Partridge's shrill thanks. "I'm perfectly willing to take the lunch, since I am going to the same place. But I don't know your babies. What do they look like, ma'am?" "Oh, that is easily told," cried Mrs.
They devour, besides all sorts of vegetables, small animals whether alive or dead, snails and worms; but their peculiar dainty consists of eggs. A partridge's nest affords them a delicious feast, particularly if they include the sitting hen.
It is amusing to learn that the tract announcing Partridge's death, and the approaching death of the Duke of Noailles, was taken quite seriously, for Partridge's name was struck off the rolls of Stationers' Hall, and the Inquisition in Portugal ordered the tract containing the treasonable prediction to be burned.
I have given this story accurately as it was told to me by Tomah Josephs, a Passamaquoddy Indian. How one of the Partridge's Wives became a Sheldrake Duck, and why her Feet and Feathers are Red. N'karnayoo, of the old time, there was a hunter who lived in the woods. One day this hunter, returning, saw a very beautiful girl sitting on a rock by a river, making a moccasin.
There was another enemy, who ought to have known better, following the old beech partridge all one early spring when snow was deep and food scarce. One day, in crossing the partridge's southern range, I met a small boy, a keen little fellow, with the instincts of a fox for hunting. He had always something interesting afoot, minks, or muskrats, or a skunk, or a big owl, so I hailed him with joy.
There was a decidedly burny smell in the room, which we ourselves had not noticed, but which, it appeared, had reached Mrs. Partridge's nose in Uncle Geoff's bedroom on the drawing-room floor, where, unfortunately, she had come to lay away some linen. And she had really been seriously frightened, poor old woman.
BETTY runneth down and opening, finds a sober grave person, who modestly inquires "If this was Dr. PARTRIDGE's?" She, taking him for some cautious City patient, that came at that time for privacy, shews him into the dining-room.
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