MRS. TILSBURY. Here, give him to me. I’ll put him in the wood-box. It has not been filled as usual.
MRS. BROWN. But it is so hard. Put this sofa-cushion in first.
MRS. TILSBURY. Stop, that is my best sofa-cushion. Here, I’ll put your muff under. It is so big and soft, it will fill it up nicely.
MRS. BROWN. No, he can’t have that, it is my new muff. Perhaps he won’t find the wooden boards so hard after all, he is growing pretty fat. Did ’oo mind the bare boards, dearie? Will ’oo be comfy in the wood-box? Oh, did I tell you the experience I had yesterday in regard to him? A well-dressed woman stopped me in the street and showed me a badge of the S.P.C.A. She said that she lived across the street from me and had often noticed my little dog. She wished to tell me that he was out of proportion across the haunches, probably because I did not feed him properly, and that unless I gave the matter my immediate attention and changed his diet, she would have me arrested for maltreating an animal. She went on to say that she had often tried to get a photograph of the dog to present as an exhibit to the society, but that I never seemed to take him out in the daytime, which was another example of my cruelty to him.
MRS. TILSBURY. Did you ever! What are we coming to? What did you say to her?
MR. BECKER. Just as I said, Mrs. Brown. You women are determined to break the laws. You seem to think that laws are made only to be broken.
MRS. TILSBURY.
The men of New York take pleasure in making
Laws that the women take pleasure in breaking.