"Won't ye let me talk to ye? Please, do!" urged Peg. Then she went on: "Ye haven't said a kind wurrd to me since I've been here." She stopped a moment. Ethel said nothing. Peg continued: "Sure, we're both girls, in the same house, of the same family, an' pretty much the same age, and yet ye never look at me except as if ye hated me. Why, ye like yer dog betther than you do ME, don't ye?"
Ethel looked down at "Pet" and fondled her and kissed her.
"I'm sorry 'Michael' hurt him. It was a cowardly thing of 'Michael' to do to snap at a little bit of a thing like that is. But it wasn't 'Michael's' fault. I set him on to it, an' he always obeys me. He'd bite a lion or THAT"—and she pointed to the poor little poodle—"if I set him onto it."
"You made him attack 'Pet'?" cried Ethel.
"I did. I hate it. It's so sleek and fat and well-bred. I hate fat, well-bred things. I like them thin and common, like 'Michael' and meself. A dog should be made to look like a dog if it is a dog. No one could mistake 'Michael' for anything else BUT a dog, but THAT thing—"
Ethel gave an indignant ejaculation and again started to go upstairs.
Peg entreated her:
"Don't go for a minnit. Won't ye make friends with me?"
"We've nothing in common," replied Ethel.
"Sure, that doesn't prevent us bein' dacent to each other, does it?"