“All! what else did she do? Why she eat up John Tomkins’s canary-bird; and did not John Tomkins, saucy rascal, say you could not sing better nor a raven?”
“I have nothing to say against the poor creature for that,” said Peter, stroking the cat of his own accord. “Cats will eat birds, ‘tis the ‘spensation of Providence. But what! Corporal!” and Peter hastily withdrawing his hand, hurried it into his breeches pocket—“but what! did not she scratch Joe Webster’s little boy’s hand into ribbons, because the boy tried to prevent her running off with a ball of string?”
“And well,” grunted the Corporal, “that was not Jacobina’s doing, that was my doing. I wanted the string—offered to pay a penny for it—think of that!”
“It was priced three pence ha’penny,” said Peter.
“Augh—baugh! you would not pay Joe Webster all he asks! What’s the use of being a man of the world, unless one makes one’s tradesmen bate a bit? Bargaining is not cheating, I hope?”
“God forbid!” said Peter.
“But as to the bit string, Jacobina took it solely for your sake. Ah, she did not think you were to turn against her!”
So saying, the Corporal, got up, walked into his house, and presently came back with a little net in his hand.
“There, Peter, net for you, to hold lemons. Thank Jacobina for that; she got the string. Says I to her one day, as I was sitting, as I might be now, without the door, ‘Jacobina, Peter Dealtry’s a good fellow, and he keeps his lemons in a bag: bad habit,—get mouldy,—we’ll make him a net: and Jacobina purred, (stroke the poor creature, Peter!)—so Jacobina and I took a walk, and when we came to Joe Webster’s I pointed out the ball o’twine to her. So, for your sake, Peter, she got into this here scrape—augh.”
“Ah!” quoth Peter laughing, “poor Puss! poor Pussy! poor little Pussy!”