“I’m Ellen North, and I live at Miss Crump’s. Wipers has just as good a right to defend himself as your dog has.”
“Well, let him keep his own side the fence;” Mrs. Todd was cooling off a little.
“Exactly what he was doing when your dog chased him. The dog was the intruder, not Wipers.”
By this time Wipers had relinquished his hold upon the whimpering Bunty. Ellen picked him up and bore him back to the house, hearing Mrs. Todd’s angry tones growing fainter and fainter as she retreated to her own door.
With flushed cheeks and excited voice Ellen, almost in tears, gave her account of the fracas.
Miss Rindy listened attentively. “I like dogs, but I like cats, too, and better than any other dog or cat I like Wipers, so I’m glad he has put the fear of cats into Bunty’s cowardly little soul. I’ll warrant he’ll not venture into this yard again, not when Wipers is there. One lesson will be enough for him.”
“But Mrs. Todd said she would throw hot water on Wipers if he went in there again, and cats will prowl.”
“She won’t. She’s like her dog, her bark is worse than her bite. That’s Bessie Todd all over. You’d think she was going to tear you to pieces, and the next thing she’ll be handing you a plate of fried chicken over the fence. I haven’t been her neighbor all this while for nothing. It doesn’t do any good to bandy words with her. It’s best to wait till she gets over her pepper-jig before you say anything. The Irish will crop out when she gets mad.”
“Is she Irish?”
“Her mother was. We won’t carry on a feud, Ellen. You’ll see that her sputtering doesn’t amount to anything. Like as not the next time you see her she’ll be stroking Wipers and calling him a nice kitty. I know.”