“Well,” said the doctor, with a short laugh, “I like them all the better for it myself; but I’m afraid the kitten wouldn’t stand much chance, and that’s a fact.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t let it come here for anything,” said Maisie with a shiver. “Why do you keep such cruel dogs?”
“As to that, you know, Miss Maisie,” said the doctor, “it isn’t crueller to hunt a cat than a fox.”
“But that’s cruel too,” said Maisie, “very cruel indeed.”
Here Dennis felt it time to interfere.
“Don’t be stupid, Maisie,” he said; “you’re only a girl. You don’t understand. Of course, people must hunt.”
So here was another failure, for not only was Dr Price’s home out of the question, but he could not think of any one who wanted a kitten. Everybody had cats; they seemed to be all over the place. If it was a puppy now. He cast an admiring glance at Snip and Snap, who stood in sprightly attitudes, one on each side of the little rough dog Peter, their eager bodies quivering, their short tails wagging, ready for the first signs of warfare. But Peter knew better. He was old and he was wise. He did not like Snip and Snap, but he was not going to be provoked into a fight in which he was sure to be worsted. So he held himself stiffly upright, uttered a low growl of contempt, and took no further notice of them.
“And now,” said Maisie, when they had said good-bye to Dr Price, and were on their way again, with Peter trotting in front, “there’s really only one more chance left.”
There were two ways to old Sally’s cottage, and Maisie knew Dennis would be sure to choose the one which led across the rick-yard of the Manor Farm; indeed, she liked this best herself except for one reason, and that was the risk of meeting the turkey-cock. It was useless for Dennis to say, “He won’t gobble if you’re not frightened of him.” She always was frightened, and he always did gobble, and turned purple with rage, and swelled out all his feathers, and shook a loose scarlet thing which hung down from his neck. They met him to-day, marching at the head of his ladylike wives, who followed him delicately, picking their way and lifting their feet high. Their small heads and quietly elegant toilets made them look rather like Aunt Trevor, Maisie thought.
“Now, walk slowly,” said Dennis, and she did try to control her fears; but as usual, the moment the turkey-cock began to gobble, she began to run, and did not stop until she was safe on the other side of the gate. From this refuge she watched Dennis, admiring him greatly as he came slowly on, shaking his stick in the turkey-cock’s face, and was quite ready to agree with him when he called her a coward.