“Why don't you buy a bulldog?”
“I think it's more Christian to shoot a man outright than to set one of those devils on him. The breed ought to be extirpated.”
“Put some ipecac in one or two. That 'll fetch 'em. I know how sick it made me once.”
“I did; but more were stolen next night. I can't afford to medicate the whole village. Last night I sat up to watch till twelve o'clock, when mother made me go to bed.”
“I'll watch to-night,” said Arthur, “and give 'em a lesson with a good load of beans from the old shotgun.”
“It would n't pay,” replied his father. “I concluded last night that all the melons in the world were n't worth a night's sleep. They 'll have to go, and next year I 'll know more than to plant any.”
“You go and help Amy pick currants, and let me talk to the boy a little,” said Mrs. Steele, coming up and taking Arthur off for a promenade up the broad path.
“How pretty Amy has grown,” said he, glancing with a pleased smile at the girl as she looked up at her father. “I suppose the young men are making sheep's eyes at her already.”
“It does n't do them any good if they are,” said Mrs. Steele, decisively. “She's only sixteen and a little girl yet, and has sense enough to know it.” “What had she been crying for when I arrived? I saw her eyes were as red as the currants.”
“Oh, dear!” replied Mrs. Steele, with a sigh of vexation, “it was her troubles at the Seminary. You know we let her go as a day scholar this sum-mer. Some of the girls slight and snub her, and she is very unhappy about it.”