Part 8 (2/2)
”Oh, I don't like to think of his being eaten! I wish he could be got rid of some other way. Don't you think he might be killed in his sleep, Israel?”
”I think it's likely it would wake him up,” said he, demurely. ”Killin'
's killin', and a critter can't sleep over it 's though 'twas the stomachache. I guess he'd kick some, ef he _was_ asleep--and screech some, too!”
”Dear me!” said Miss Lucinda, horrified at the idea. ”I wish he could be sent out to run in the woods. Are there any good woods near here, Israel?”
”I don't know but what he'd as lieves be slartered to once as to starve an' be hunted down out in the lots. Besides, there ain't n.o.body as I knows of would like a hog to be a-rootin' round among their turnips and young wheat.”
”Well, what I shall do with him I don't know!” despairingly exclaimed Miss Lucinda. ”He was such a dear little thing when you bought him, Israel! Do you remember how pink his pretty little nose was--just like a rosebud--and how bright his eyes were, and his cunning legs? And now he's grown so big and fierce! But I can't help liking him, either.”
”He's a cute critter, that's sartain; but he does too much rootin' to have a pink nose now, I expect; there's consider'ble on 't, so I guess it looks as well to have it gray. But I don't know no more'n you do what to do abaout it.”
”If I could only get rid of him without knowing what became of him!”
exclaimed Miss Lucinda, squeezing her forefinger with great earnestness, and looking both puzzled and pained.
”If Mees Lucinda would pairmit?” said a voice behind her.
She turned round to see Monsieur Leclerc on his crutches, just in the parlor-door.
”I shall, mees, myself dispose of piggie, if it please. I can. I shall have no sound; he shall to go away like a silent snow, to trouble you no more, never!”
”Oh, sir, if you could! But I don't see how!”
”If mees was to see, it would not be to save her pain. I shall have him to go by _magique_ to fiery land.”
Fairy-land, probably. But Miss Lucinda did not perceive the _equivoque_.
”Nor yet shall I trouble Meester Israyel. I shall have the aid of myself and one good friend that I have; and some night, when you rise of the morning, he shall not be there.”
Miss Lucinda breathed a deep sigh of relief.
”I am greatly obliged--I mean, I shall be,” said she.
”Well, I'm glad enough to wash my hands on 't,” said Israel. ”I shall hanker arter the critter some, but he's a-gettin' too big to be handy; 'n it's one comfort about critters, you ken git rid on 'em somehaow when they're more plague than profit. But folks has got to be let alone, excep' the Lord takes 'em; an' He generally don't see fit.”--_From Somebody's Neighbors._
A GIFT HORSE.
BY ROSE TERRY COOKE.
”Well, he no need to ha' done it, Sary. I've told him more'n four times he hadn't ought to pull a gun tow'rds him by the muzzle on't. Now he's up an' did it once for all.”
”He won't never have no chance to do it again, Scotty, if you don't hurry up after the doctor,” said Sary, wiping her eyes on her dirty calico ap.r.o.n, thereby adding an effective shadow under their redness.
”Well, I'm a-goin', ain't I? But ye know yerself 'twon't do to go so fur on eend, 'thout ye're vittled consider'ble well.”
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