Bob purred and capered. Neaera gave him his milk, and stood looking at him.
“How would you like to be drowned, dear?” she asked.
The unconscious Bob lapped on.
Neaera stamped her foot. “He shan’t! He shan’t! He shan’t!” she exclaimed. “Not an inch! Not an inch!”
Bob finished his milk and looked up.
“No, dear, you shan’t be drowned. Don’t be afraid.”
As Bob knew nothing about drowning, and only meant that he wanted more milk, he showed no gratitude for his reprieve. Indeed, seeing there was to be no more milk, he pointedly turned his back, and began to wash his face.