"Now there's Jacobina, 'cause she's a good cat, a faithful servant, the whole village is against her: such lies as they tell on her, such wappers, you'd think she was the devil in garnet! I grant, I grant," added the Corporal, in a tone of apologetic candour, "that she's wild, saucy, knows her friends from her foes, steals Goody Solomon's butter; but what then? Goody Solomon's d—d b—h! Goody Solomon sold beer in opposition to you, set up a public;—you do not like Goody Solomons, Peter Dealtry?"
"If that were all Jacobina had done!" said the landlord, grinning.
"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.