"Oh, the poor cat!"
"Yes, I have killed him; but I am sorry for it now. What will
Mrs. - - say?"
"She must not know it. I have told you the story of the pig that
Jacob killed. You had better bury it with the pig."
John was really sorry for having yielded, in a fit of passion, to do
so cruel a thing; yet a few days after he got into a fresh scrape
with Mrs. - -'s animals.
The hens were laying, up at the barn. John was very fond of fresh
eggs, but some strange dog came daily and sucked the eggs. John had
vowed to kill the first dog he found in the act. Mr. - - had a very
fine bull-dog, which he valued very highly; but with Emilia, Chowder
was an especial favourite. Bitterly had she bemoaned the fate of
Tom, and many were the inquiries she made of us as to his sudden
disappearance.
One afternoon John ran into the room. "My dear Mrs. Moodie, what is
Mrs. - -'s dog like?"
"A large bull-dog, brindled black and white."
"Then, by Jove, I've shot him!"
"John, John! you mean me to quarrel in earnest with my friend.
How could you do it?"
"Why, how the deuce should I know her dog from another?
