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 at me. He looked long and steadily, as if considering whether he knew me. Then he evidently decided that he did, and showed his teeth in a huge expansive grin. 'He's very shy with strangers at first,' said Mrs. Ipplethwaite, 'and he generally won't have anything to say to you until he gets to know you quite well.'

Peter was quietly dancing up and down with the same smile upon his face, exactly as he had done round and round my bed. 'Salaam, Peter, salaam,' commanded his mistress. Peter stopped dancing, and salaamed before me down to the ground. As he rose up I could almost have sworn that he winked at me. 'I don't know if he will shake hands,' Mrs. Ipplethwaite went on, 'but we'll ask him. Shake hands, Peter.'

Peter solemnly advanced and held out his hand, probably that very hand that had rested in such a nasty, damp, clammy way upon my knee but a few hours before. Peter gazed at me steadily with a sort of knowing look on his face as we shook hands. Then he positively winked. It was as much as to say, 'What a tale we could tell if we liked, couldn't we?' 'He seems to have taken to you wonderfully,' said Mrs. Ipplethwaite. 'He's really the quaintest creature and most extraordinarily human. But occasionally he's very naughty—aren't you, Peter?—and escapes from the house at nights. Only last night he managed to get loose again, and