"For once," he said slowly, "I can't help wishing I was a sheep-killer."
"Well," said Henrietta, "you know you could try."
"It's not a question of trying," Spot told her. "My family isn't a sheep-killing one. I have to live up to the family name."
"Well," Henrietta Hen declared, "if I were you I'd join another family—at least for a short time."
But old dog Spot declared that that wouldn't do at all. "We'll have to be patient," he said. "The Muley Cow claims that Johnnie Green will get tired of Snowball sooner or later. It may be that she is right. Let us hope so!"
"Farmer Green ought to turn that great lamb into the pasture," Henrietta Hen spluttered.
That was exactly what Mrs. Green herself thought.
"Your lamb can't come into my kitchen!" she called at that very moment. For Johnnie Green was just then entering the doorway, with Snowball at his heels.
"Thank goodness," Spot barked, "there's one person on this farm who has some sense! If it wasn't for Mrs. Green I'd be tempted to run away."
As Johnnie Green closed the door behind him, leaving Snowball upon the stone step, Snowball gave a plaintive baa-a-a!