"Of the earth—earthy," answered Ethel.
Peg thought a moment: "Sure I suppose I am then." She looked half-shyly at Ethel and asked her quietly: "Don't you like men?"
"Not much," answered Ethel, indifferently.
"Just dogs?" persisted Peg.
"You can trust THEM," and Ethel caressed "PET'S" little pink snout.
"That's thrue," agreed Peg. "I like dogs, too. But I like children betther. Wouldn't ye like to have a child of yer own, Ethel?"
That young lady looked at her horrifiedly: "MARGARET!"
"Well, I would," said Peg. "That's the rale woman in us. Ye know ye only fondle that animal because ye haven't got a child of yer own to take in yer arms. Sure that's the reason all the selfish women have pet dogs. They're afraid to have childhren. I've watched them! O' course a dog's all very well, but he can't talk to ye, an' comfort ye, an' cry to ye, an' laugh to ye like a child can."
Peg paused, then pointed to "PET" and launched the following wonderful statement:
"Sure THAT thing could never be President of the United States. But if ye had a baby he might grow up to it."